


Life from above

by AvatarofAroha



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A bit of Cornish!, Antihero!, Because I'm evil., Horse!, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 06, Slow Burn, Witchcraft!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarofAroha/pseuds/AvatarofAroha
Summary: In times of war, knowledge is power.What is the cost?A mysterious and deeply flawed original character binds Daryl to her cause of rebuilding civilization.Love, as always, complicates matters; can Daryl love again?What is it that ties Jesus, Negan and Ezekial to her?Chapters posted weekly. Comes with canon compliant swearing, nihilism, smut and gore.Introduction to original character occurs in the time between season six, episodes 9 and 10She's a messed up anti hero; everything Daryl never knew he wanted.





	1. Spiders in the attic

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Readers,  
> This is my first fanfic ever; so please give me lots of delicious, nutritious comments and kudos and I'll do the same for you.  
> Quid pro quo  
> or as we say in New Zealand; "Chur bro!"

The day started like any other, before dawn, amongst the hushed gossiping of birdlife and the insects they would soon devour.  
I listened as a nearby cicada was snatched away. One second singing the melody of biological imperative, the next being ground to death in the gullet of an early rising opportunist. A parable perhaps.  
And thats is how life was now. Us, once the parasitic, egocentric apex of evolution, now prey under the promise of a necrotic plague. Hunted to a death that was not true death, by those walking dead and the homicidal scavengers of our own kind.  
Fucked, basically.

So why did I still cling to this existence?  
I wasn' t convinced that this was the end. Most days it felt more like a new beginning. That big old wheel had turned and we humans were no longer in charge.  
Nature, whom I had worshipped for so long, had triumphed. Our monuments to greed and short sighted stupidity were disappearing beneath her cloak. The predators of old were returning, wolves, bears, snakes; the tooth and claw of Night.  
I had spent a large portion of my life studying indigenous societies; a cultural anthropologist.  
On a good day I was excited to be at the cusp of a new type of society forming.  
These people in the town beyond me and the areas bordering this forest were adapting, reorganising and surviving. I was addicted to watching them, documenting their successes and failures.  
Soon I knew they would organise to hold the death threat at bay, then begin to trade, then a true civilisation would form. I would be its scribe.  
Already there were archetypal roles being filled, a natural and ancient structure forming. I wanted to learn if they were intentional in their structure, self aware of the archetypes they were assuming.

I could wait. I would have to, for the plague of the walking dead was hovering about below. I had no compulsion to fight my way through. I hid, camouflaged, sheltered in the canopy of the huddled trees. The dead could not climb and the living were too distracted to look up.

Up here I was as safe as I could be, a dryad of old, apart, watching, waiting.

 

I rolled out of my hammock with difficulty.  
My back was sore, my arms were sore and my hands were fucking agonising.  
I'd spent the last few days bending, wrenching and lashing branches together for another brew house.  
Building up in the trees was nigh fucking impossible, especially quietly. However it was preferable to hoisting from the ground and attracting attention.  
Attention was not something I ever wanted. I had spent the last three years honing my powers of invisibility.  
Even I didnt know what I looked like anymore. I dyed my hair and skin with henna and walnut to blend in with the trees, my hair was a dark cape that hid my face and I had shrunk to the size of prepubescent boy.  
I felt like a spider most of the time, building, hiding, nibbling, sensing.  
So I had to talk to myself out loud to remember I was human. Not too loud though, a constant stream of conciousness murmering.  
Alright, I am a feral, muttering hag of the woods. 

But wait, I shall tell you of how I was redeemed.


	2. Too drunk to duck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I meet Daryl

I had declared the day a fallow one.  
I would check my water barrels and hives and then rest again.  
There was no point acting heroic without an audience, so fuck it; a bit of work then I would treat myself to a lazy drunken afternoon.  
I clambered out of my shonky tree hut and teetered across my deadfall bridge to my water collection tank.  
My levels were precariously low. It seldom rained in this god forsaken place, but it was always humid and hot, so condensation was my very slow but steady supplier of life giving moisture.  
In hindsight, I should have quenched my morning thirst with water. I didnt.  
I went next to my mead barrels over in my favourite oak tree.  
That was the place that made me feel like a druid, a dryad, a magical creature.  
Musky yarrow mead fermenting away in the arms of the oak, with a hive murmuring above.  
It revived me this tree. For a moment I could forget the struggle of surviving and commune with benevolent forces of nature.  
I did just that, laying out on a thick branch, glugging a tester bottle of my mead.

Now what you should know is that yarrow mead is an ancient remedy for listlessness of the spirit. That is to say its really strong and mildly hallucenogenic. Perhaps not my best idea, but so long as I stayed up in the trees I should be fine. Perhaps revitalised and repurposed even.

The branch I was laying on was too comfortable; if you can believe that.  
I drained the bottle, knowing it was a stupid thing to do.  
Well, without any sensible adult supervision I tend to do a whole bunch of stupid shit. Seems like a release from the terror of day today living. In this case my stupid decision ended up being an act of pure genius; I would like to think my subconcious had a cunning plan all along.

I heard a noise. That distinct noise of someone moving quietly. Fuck! A living person, the old fashioned kind.  
Shit!  
I tensed, listening, my pulse hammering away at my throat.  
They were moving slowly; I should have been alert, spotted them a mile away.  
Too late, they were tracking something judging by their careful lack of noise and stop and start movement.  
I made what I had planned to be a minute turning movement. A furtive attempt to try and see the threat. What actually happened was I turned past my point of equilibrium and slipped right off the motherfucking branch.  
I was now hanging by a single arm above the tracker. Idiot.  
I saw it was a man. He looked like one of the newcomers to Alexandria. Surely there couldn’t be too many men around these parts lugging a crossbow.  
" Hi, I'm going to fall a bit now, if you decided to catch me I would be quite grateful, I shall try and do it quietly".

The tracker took a step back , lowering the crossbow, saying nothing.  
I dropped, grasping out for branches to break my fall but missing each one.

"The fuck?" The tracker inquired, standing over me looking simultaneously puzzled and amused.

"Not now dear, I have a terrible headache" I joked, intense pain seems to bring out my hilarious side.  
I wobbled into a standing position and patted myself down, checking for fractures and gaping wounds.  
I was scratched to shit and winded, but fortunately I was still pretty fucking high and anaesthetised from the mead.  
The tracker followed my movements with his crossbow trained on me.

"Well, you found more than you bargained for didnt you?" I asked the tracker, smiling what I thought was my most disarming smile.. "Hello, so nice to meet you. As you can see, I’m a crazy hippie that lives alone in a tree and I am no threat to anyone. Haha."

The tracker scanned the area and my face before pulling a dirty red rag from his back pocket.  
Anticipating his intent I shrugged and held out my wrists together for him to tie. He looked at me quizzically, perhaps beginning to actually see me as a person beneath my peculiarity, perhaps.  
He hoisted his crossbow onto his back and climbed up the tree I had fallen from with such panache.  
To be honest the sight was quite appealing from my angle below, taut fabric over flexing muscle.  
I was buzzing from my mead and the prospect of ongoing human interaction when I felt something warm and wet slide into the back of my pants. I couldn't investigate further with my hands tied, so I wriggled a bit and more liquid slid into my pants.  
Eeew.  
I looked over my shoulder for a source, contorting myself to see what the hell was going on. Nothing visible, but I could now detect the unmistakable odour of blood.  
Shit.  
Where was that guy and how much of my set up had he found?  
Eventually the tracker returned from an unexpected direction. Well, fuck. He must have found most of my shit if he didn't come back down the tree he went up.  
Not good. Hopefully these Alexandrians were willing to trade peacefully. I really couldn't face starting all over again.

"Got quite the set up." He looked at me with his eyes squinted in suspicion, "How long ya been here?"  
Then he sniffed, shifting back into high alert.

"Sorry, ah, I think my back is bleeding out a bit, I can't reach to stop it."

He moved behind me to see, I heard his sharp intake of breath and knew then I was a bit fucked.  
He peeled off his shirt and tied it tight around my waist, tucking the excess into the back of my jeans.  
I noticed as he did that he'd pilfered a bottle of my mead and stashed it in his back pocket.  
Interesting choice dude.

"Alright, caint leave ya here to die, Lets git going" he grabbed me by my tied wrists and stalked off towards the road.

Yanking away some brush he uncovered a motorbike.

"Seriously?" I quipped, still high and a little uncensored at this point

I got a scowl in reply.  
He stood the bike up, brushed it off then turned to survey the logistics of fitting me on while I remained captive.  
His solution was to untie me and then retie my wrists around his waist.

We rode to Alexandria, as I thought we might. I tried to concentrate on my introductory speil to the leaders there. I had been planning to set up trade with them once things settled down a bit. Yeah, it looked like I would have to fast forward all that. I was struggling to stay concious. Fortunately the upright bit was taken care of due to me being strapped to this tracker dude.  
I began to think about how enjoyable this might be in other circumstances, the rumble of the bike, the scent of leather, the open road, black spots in my vision, growing darker, heavy black everywhere,  
oh fuck.


	3. Smells like team spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello Alexandria

Sharp disinfectant and overwhelming wrongness assailed my senses. Wrong air, wrong surface, wrong sounds.  
I fought the urge to flee while I took in all the information I could with my eyes still closed.

I was face down on a thin bed in what smelt like a makeshift surgery. I could hear people outside and feel the warmth of day.  
There was a person being still in the room, no leather and smoke; not the tracker then. They were not moving about busily; so probably someone tasked with keeping a watch on me. Fair enough, I was an unknown entity in a hostile world.

Well, time to get this show on the road; " Um, hello? I'm awake now, thank you for not leaving me to die" I opened my eyes, to find a bench of medical supplies and a door in my veiw.

The person on watch approached my bed. I saw a torso approach in dark blue jeans, blue grey shirt, and a, tie?! He pulled a chair into my line of sight and sat on it, his gaze fixed on me. A man about my age, with stern blue eyes in a face worn by more than just the weather. He wore authority as comfortably as he wore his incongrous security uniform.  
Seeing as I was currently indisposed; naked beneath a thin sheet; it seemed that non threatening image I had hoped to convey was working out rather well.

"Alright, you're awake an’ I'm busy, so lets make this quick. How many walkers have you killed, how many people have you killed an’ why?" He demanded.

" I haven't had to kill any people and very few walkers because I believe life is sacred and Nature will take care of the balance. I have utilised my knowledge of natural systems to survive alone and evade predators" I summarised, it was mostly true.

He gave me a hard unblinking stare then, probably evaluating my verbal and non verbal cues with what seemed like a practiced intimidation technique. Moments later he visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping slightly but his expression remaining neutral. He might be a hard sell this one.

" Well that certainly fits with the information I have on you. I'm Rick, I'm the leader here. You will be kept under watch until you are well, then we will work out how you will repay the resources you have cost us." He rose to leave.

"Thank you for your medical aid and hospitality, and the altruism of your tracker too. I can outline my tradeable resources and pertinent information if you would see fit to provide me with pen and paper." I attempted a polite smile.

"Yeah, we can arrange that. Hell, you really are somethang else." he huffed on his way out.

 

The next person I saw was the tracker, and if I wasn't mistaken, he was a whole lot cleaner than last time. In fact he even seemed to have moved his hair off his face a bit too.  
Interesting.

He had a pen and pad in one hand and my mead bottle in the other. I smiled, pulled the sheet around me and tried to sit up on my side. Jesus fuck I was hurting. My muscles were wrenched, and my wound ached from my back, through my kidneys and into my spine. Fuck you sobriety. But still, this wolf of a man before me was making it seem like a good day.

"This is some serious shit ya made. I caint drink it all myself. Uh, thought ya might need it" he explained, looking sheepishly at the floor.

I was feeling very aware of my nakedness and thought it might be making him uncomfortable.

"Thank you, ah, I don't know your name, mine is Druia, or Dru usually"

"Daryl" he offered, walking up to the chair by my bed and avoiding eye contact as he sat down.

"Well, Daryl, I am pleased to meet you. You are certainly a gentleman bringing my medicinal beverage to my sorry self. I hope that I can repay your kindness"

"More a this crazy shit'd be good" Daryl sloshed the mead bottle.

"Certainly, once I can get back to my tree, there is a bucket with your name on it. I only have a couple of bottles, but you are welcome to refill this one if we can empty it first." I adjusted my sheet as he passed me the opened bottle. I took a big slug, Aah, the age old way of making friends; getting pissed together.

Daryl followed suit, slugging at the bottle and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He was still avoiding eye contact, just a furtive glance when he thought I wasn't looking.

I knew several strategies for dealing with this from my field work. The main one was not to force eye contact, defer power to him and to mirror his body language. Hmm, well mirroring was going to be tricky, seeing as how I was stretched out on a bed in a sheet.

"Daryl, I wonder if there is a robe or something I could borrow?"

"Uh yeah, hang on" he left the room, returning a few minutes later with a fluffy purple bathrobe.

"Here ya are" he put it on my bed, turned away and remained standing, flustered.

"Brilliant, thank you" I eased myself off the bed, pulled the robe on over the sheet, then tugged out the sheet and replaced it on the bed.

I felt like a pubescent teenager getting changed for gym class.  
I tied the robe belt tight, leaning on the bed for support. It felt good to stand again, but my legs were wobbly as fuck.

I spotted a wheeled office chair in the corner and hobbled over to it, Daryl got to it before me and held it steady as I carefully straddled it, arranging my robe to preserve some modesty.  
He wheeled me next to his chair then handed me the bottle.

"Holy shit, that feels better" I announced after a big gulp. "Sitting like this reminds me of when I got my back piece done."

"Yeah, ya got a lotta tattoos for a girl" He flicked his eyes toward me as he worried a thumbnail between his teeth.

"Yes, I collect them as part of my cultural research. They are a gift from the indigenous societies I stayed with. My thighs were done in Samoa, my calves in Myanmar, this arm in Taiwan , this arm in Alaska, my chest in Java and my back piece is from New Zealand"

I sighed and grew quiet then, assaulted by such a sense of loss of all those beautiful spirits. Those noble outcasts of time that had led me here and given me the knowledge that kept me alive. Were they isolated enough to have survived?  
Daryl must have read the change in my mood as he slunk down into his chair and rested his boots on my bed frame.

We sat in mutual reflection for a moment. I appreciated the comfortable silence and his ability to hold it.  


" Well, at least we cant fuck up the planet any worse huh? Nature is back in charge now, and you and I have the skills to pay the bills huh?"

"Ya wha?" Daryl slurred. 

"Well, I could be wrong, but I feel like we are of a similar ilk. You and I are used to being apart, yes? Living off the land. It made us strange before, non-conformists. Now though, in this post apocalypse world, we are valuable experts."  
I wondered if he would understand how essential he was to his group. If he could objectively imagine himself as someone of great value; worthy of respect. I hoped one day the seed I had just planted could be nurtured enough to take root and grow.  
He narrowed his eyes at me, cocking his head to the side. He looked like a wolf in that moment, right before he spluttered out laughing " Ain't no expert at nutthin n you're weird as shit, girl"  


Ha, I guess my evil brew was sneaking up on him already. Pretty soon now he should get the warm fuzzy high.

"Yeah, I guess that's true, I am as weird as shit, especially around these parts. You shouldn't sell yourself short though, I doubt Rick is the only one keeping this group alive"  


I wiggled over and put my hand just above his on the bottle, holding it there. Maintaining the physical contact for a vital few seconds before bringing the bottle to my mouth.  
He must have reached his buzz because he made eye contact and watched my mouth as I drank, without any of his former self consciousness.

" Here you are, that last little bit must be yours" I handed back the bottle, ensuring contact again.

I figured I'd best leave the flirting there; I didn't want to spook my intended prey as it were.  
My best guess was that a tracker like him would like to keep an eye on me for a while before making any move. I knew for sure now that I wanted him to. He would have alot to offer me as a loyal ally.

"I'd best start proving my worth. Whereabouts did you pop that pen and paper Daryl?"

Daryl raised himself slightly and pulled the pad and pen from his back pocket.  
I set to work drawing maps of the settlements I knew of and a couple of my caches for good measure.

I almost felt sorry for these people.

Their world was about to get a whole lot bigger.


	4. Wait and see

I had been called to a meeting in a house with Rick, Daryl and a bunch of others.  
They seemed at odds with each other over the maps I had drawn.  
Clearly Rick held the most authority, but there were two women present who seemed to have a lot of sway.  
I sat back as neutral as possible and tried to find out the names, roles and archetypes of the new breed of Alexandrians.

The woman called Maggie and the man Glen who might be her partner were pushing for strengthening their position and consolidating resources, rather than risking trade and expansion.

I liked her immediately; she seemed stable, wise and compassionate. Although those virtues had far less value in this tooth and claw new world order. I decided she was the one whose trust I needed to gain most.

The female security guard, Michonne I think, was harder to crack. She said very little, but I got the feeling that she was for trade and expansion along with her male counterpart.  
Rick was intriguing, and it seemed that my new friend Daryl was his shadow hound, loyal, wary and waiting. I was a little disappointed; the lone wolf had traded freedom for ownership. I could see why he might have done it though, this Rick had a noble charisma about him, like the Kings of legend. He was listening, truly listening to each voice that spoke. The majority of the assembled group had a palpable love and trust for him. I understood now why he had assumed the mantle of this community so quickly. In my mind I dubbed him King Arthur. A familiar archetype from my Cornish home.

It sounded like the Alexandrians were running low on food and medicines.  
I again was disappointed, this had always been a gated community, planned to be self sufficient from the outset.  
I should know, I bloody helped set it up!  
There should have been organic gardens backing on to each home, with bee hives and chickens in the treeline and ducks in the lake. That would have secured their tradeable wealth in this brave new world, which in turn would help keep them relatively safe from my old buddy Negan. Sure as shit, The Saviours were going to find them sooner or later  
But clearly the contractors at the outset, then the homeowners later had cut corners and shown a predictable lack of foresight and work ethic.

So I made a judgement call. Perhaps, in hindsight, it was a bit harsh. I decided that most of these people were too stupid to save, so fuck em.  
The new crew would probably survive and inherit Alexandria or be subsumed by the Saviours.  
I wasn't gonna rain on their parade just yet, so I held my tongue and waited to be released.

After an hour of discussion and a small contingent of dissent, Rick made the call to go and investigate nearest settlement I had mapped; Hilltop.  
I confirmed that they were peaceful and my contact there was known as Jesus, who was open to trade.  
They looked at me as if I was speaking in tongues, so fuck em all, I amped it up  
"You can put your trust in Jesus, he can perform miracles" I grinned.  
I'd let them find out the murky details for themselves.

I just wanted to get back to the security of my life from above.


	5. Big bad wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Negan

I was glad to back in my tree and away from other people's bullshit drama.  
Although if I'm being honest, I did wish Daryl had stuck around after he dropped me off.

I might of been imagining it, but he looked like he might have come up for a bit if I'd had the guts to ask.  
Oh well, I'd have to scratch that itch the usual way instead.

So after I'd harvested my trade crops and packed my little green bag with my sweet, sweet sticky buds I set off for the Sanctuary.  
The leader there was a dyed in the wool sociopath turned warlord.  
The kind of person I needed as a friend, so I supplied him with top shelf weed in return for information and protection if I ever needed it.

Although he was an evil sonofabitch, he respected my independence and hardly ever had me followed anymore.

Also, he was a fantastic fuck, which in these times, as in times of old, is priceless.

 

It took me a couple of days to get there, travelling as I did through one wood to another.  
Finally I reached the treeline that backed on to the buildings on one side of the compound.  
I clambered onto the roof and laid a well crafted blunt on his deck chair; my usual calling card.

All I had to do now was wait until dusk when Negan would come up to the roof for his ritual smoke and whiskey.  
I stretched out my tired limbs and fell into meditation as the sun began its slow descent. I could feel the lives around me, not happy, but not the anguish of true suffering either. This place Negan had made was more like a kind of Limbo. The inhabitants were slaves to their fear, sacrificing their freedom to a life of drudgery and subjugation. I couldn't feel sorry for them, this was their choice. My Big Bad Wolf was all about choice. Now I heard the door opening, booted footfalls across the roof. Playtime.

"Hello Darling, come on out, let me look atcha" Negan sounded pleased as he picked the blunt off the chair.  
I stepped out of the shadows, bowing low as I approached him; I knew he liked a bit of theatre, all these warlords do.

"Negan, I missed you, I hope you are well and my gift pleases you."  
I opened my little green bag and set it at his feet.  
I had to suck up, but if he did some sucking of his own later , it would more than pay off.  
"Well my Mysterious Mama, this evenin' finds me hearty and hale as luck would have it, now lets have a little looky looky at whatcha have here."  
He picked a bud from the bag and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, grinning and closing his eyes as he sniffed it.

"Oh my lord Dru, you are my angel, this pretty lil Mary Jane here smells Mmm mmmm delicious!"

I smiled and sidled up close to him, all doe eyes and heaving cleavage "Shall we have a taste then?"

"Why, yes, what a fanfuckingtastic idea sweet thing"

I sat at his feet, resting my head on his thigh as we passed the blunt and blissed out under the stars.  
He absent mindedly fondled my hair and sang old Fleetwood Mac songs.  
It was kinda sweet.

He leaned in close and whispered "You wanna spend the night in my big ol bed sugar?"

Well it would be rude to refuse his hospitality, plus there was the matter of my unscratched itch; so I had to comply.

"Yes, please, I am aching for you Daddy" 

Now I know calling a sociopath that occasionally fucks you "Daddy" is a bit sick, but it happens to be his preferred title during sex, so you'll forgive me this once. 

What you should know about me at this point is that I will do whatever it takes to stay free.


	6. Daddy's Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Whatever it takes' is not too bitter too swallow, nor is Druia...
> 
> Lashings of Negan filth, because, Negan.
> 
> Mmmm,mmm

I rode on Negan's back down the stairs.  
We were like a couple of stoned teenagers skipping school to get high and fumble at each other.

He dropped me in the shower stall  
I stripped off with haste, proud of my lithe, heavily decorated body.  
The huge scar across my abdomen gave me no pause with Negan. I think for him, that scar is half of my appeal. So I kicked my clothes away and turned on the water; it felt so good to feel warm water running over my body.

Time to put on the full persona; Daddy's dirty little girl.

"Oh, Daddy, I am getting spoiled; this feels so good" I purred at him.

He knows it's an act, degrading for me and tailored just for him, so he appreciates it, delights in it.

"Whatever makes you happy, baby. You get good and clean so I can make you dirty again."

Negan looked at me like I was a plate of sticky ribs; the naked lust in his eyes and that fucking evil smile told me he was buying what I was selling.

I soaped up my breasts, arse and cunt enthusiastically, rubbing all over and rotating my hips.

Negan pulled off his tshirt, his boots and his jeans and stepped under the water with me.

"Mmm, that lil pussy looks good enough to eat, let me check". He slid his index finger into my eager lil kitty, wiggled it and then put it in his mouth.  
"Oh, good golly, that pussy is juicier than a Georgia peach, and just as fucking deeelicious".

He knelt down then, jammed two fingers into my cunt and pressed a third on my asshole. Next thing he was licking, sucking and finger fucking all my cares away.

"Oh Daddy, Yes! " I growled, close, grinding my mound into his hairy face. I can't say I wasn't enjoying it. The pain, potential threat and degradation fed the dark corner of my soul. Made me feel human. Reminded me of my faithful self loathing.

"Ha! Not yet sunshine!" He slapped my little kitty, turned the water off and hefted me over his shoulder; caveman style.

I got dropped onto his bed, then pounced on, he bit at my neck and shoulders, leaving smiling teeth imprints. As the pain blossomed I found myself imagining Daryl pawing at me, feral and ravenous.

I rolled onto my stomach, thrusting my ass into his face, I know what he likes you see.

"Oh now you are peachy keen ain't cha, have you been a good girl?" he asked, slapping my ass with his generous, turgid cock.

"No Daddy," I pouted "I've been very naughty"

Negan spread my cheeks and started tonguing my asshole, fuck it was good, so I started rubbing my clit, but he slapped my hand away.

"Oh no you don't, you naughty, dirty lil girl, there are rules; Daddy decides when you get off, maybe you will, maybe you won't"

He shifted position then, grabbing my hair in a tight clump and shoving his fat cock in my mouth, which I opened eagerly for him.

"Now you get your Daddy good and ready for your punishment. Suck, baby, SUCK!" 

I did as I was told, mouth fucking him with all sorts of porcine sound effects as I rammed my throat repeatedly with his purple head.

"Oh fuck baby, aint nobody ever gobbled my cock like you do; its like its fucking gay hour at the All You Can Eat Cock Cafe, Uh!"

He pulled out of my mouth then, his cock covered in thready saliva and brought it down to my ass, pushing slow and steady into my hot hole.

"Mmmm, mmm, that's my dirty girl, take it all in baby." Negan groaned his enjoyment into my ear like a filthy secret.

My ass accomodated him, because that's the kinda girl I am. Don't knock it til you've tried it, it trumps getting pussy fucked for me everytime.

"Oh fuck me Daddy" I breathed as he reached his hilt. That earned me a powerful slap on the ass; so I said it again, enjoying the sting of another slap while writhing on his glorious cock.

He stopped thrusting then, withdrawing until just his head was inside me. I moaned and tried to back up onto him, he just chuckled at my frustration.

"Please" I remembered to use my manners, keep the act together, even though I was now at the blinding edge of a mammoth orgasm. 

"Oh, now that's better baby, treat your Daddy with some respect". Negan admonished, reaching down to rub my clit as he thrusted long and slow into me.

"Daddy, please, I want to come, please, fuck me, please, please" I begged, biting into my arm, riding the edge, almost fucking there.

"Hmmm, are you going to be good and look after your Daddy, give him what he wants?"

Well, fuck, I hoped it wasn't anything I didn't want to give, you never really knew with this guy.  
But, y'know, fuck it right?

"Yes Daddy"

"That's my girl." He rubbed and fucked and Holy Mother of Christ I came so hard I very nearly snapped my coccyx as I shuddered violently into him.

He pulled out then, wiped down his cock with the sheet, climbed up over me on the bed and started jacking off ferociously above my face.

"Can I swallow some Daddy, please?" I asked, because like I said, I know what he likes.

"Yes, angel, you can have some of Daddy's milkshake." "Oh man, thar she blows baby!" With that he started spurting his load over my face, most of it landing in my wide open mouth. I swallowed it down and licked my lips.

"Daddy, you're so delicious" I purred, pulling him down to me.

He wiped my face with the sheet before balling it up and flinging it away. I climbed onto his hot and solid body and licked the sweat from his chest. He reciprocated by massaging into the small of my back with his strong hands. I genuinely enjoyed fucking Negan. He was such an addictive specimen of a man. Psychotic sure, but so fucking fine and charismatic too.

"Mmm, I do so love your visits angel, now it's time to give your Daddy what he wants."

My blood ran cold and my stomach lurched, but I kept shit together and sweetly asked "What can I do for you Daddy?" while twirling my fingers in his chest hair.

He looked at me then, close up, searching my face, looking almost bashful. 

"I've been feeling my years lately baby, my knees are sore, my feet hurt and my neck is plum fucked, is there, ah, anything you got that can fix me up? I don't want anyone knowing I'm not all vim and vigour and shit."

"Of course, anything for you. I'll give you a good massage with my birch linament, that'll definetly help" 

"Oh, sweetheart, you really are my angel" He grinned, planting a kiss on my forehead.

Well, thank fuck, that was an easy escape from a potentially dire situation.  
I grabbed my linament from my bag and gave him a long languous massage until he drifted off. Opportunist that I am; I stretched out next to his warm body and snatched a few hours sleep in his cozy bed. I must have woken when the buzz wore off, because I began to feel anxious and guilty. Ugh, I hate sober me.  
So I left my linament and weed there for him beside the bed and crept out into the oncoming dawn.

Playing with fire might be dangerous, but it was also the only way to ensure my survival.


	7. Good Buzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl pays a visit and gets to relax before it all turns to shit.

I had packed to head out on my orchard scavenge and was applying my henna and peppermint bodypaint to deter bugs, snakes and being spotted when I heard rustling below.

It sounded purposeful; so a visitor or finally a Saviour had sprung my hideaway.

Then the creak of leather, I couldn't quite spot him from my angle, but my heart lept all the same.

"Dru, ya there?" came his gruff voice.I peeked through the floor boards; yep, it was my favourite feral hunter below.

I tried to keep my voice level; hard to do with no clothes on and my nerves suddenly shot to shit.

" Yes, here, I'll drop the rope ladder" My tree had almost no branches for eight feet up now, I had lopped them off as a security measure.

Clothes! Where?! Singlet, good, fuck, pants? Sarong! Yes that'll do, if I sit carefully.

He pushed open the trapdoor to my treehut as I was securing my sarong.

"Hey" He was grimy and embarrassed as he stood in my tiny hut, filling up all available space with his overwhelming masculinity. My God I could hardly breath. I had imagined him here every night since we'd met, doing filthy and depraved things to my eager body. Now he was actually here, in my shitty little hut. Holy shit. He was so fucking close I could smell his musty clothes, his oily hair, his fresh sweat, his fucking baked bean breakfast. Mmmph! Chill Dru, act normal.

"Hey, welcome, here take a seat, well, only one to choose from, hope it doesn't collapse, ha, made it myself, haha" I flustered.

He pulled his crossbow off his shoulder, resting it on the floor, then folded himself down into my chair, which faced directly onto my hammock and shelves of various personal belongings.

"Made this yerself huh, high up too, musta been hard work." Daryl scanned the hut and ran his fingers over the floor slats.

"Yes, I got lucky with the floor,I found a stack of old pallets that werent too heavy to hoist one by one, then I just had to fill in the gaps with branches. They already had moss and soil on them, so the camoflaging almost took care of itself. It isn't water tight though obviously. I need to find a brown or green tent or tarp for that. Still looking."

Oh God, I needed to shut up. Nervous blathering. I had thought about him far too much and now eye contact seemed far too intense. Shit! Act cool. Hospitable, how did that go again, food, drink, yes, drink!

"Would you like a drink?"

He paused, weighing his options for a moment. "Mm, got that mead stuff?"

"Sure do" I bent to rummage for a bottle, hyper aware of the thin fabric of my sarong and my omission of undergarments in my rush.

He hadn't said why he was here yet. He couldn't be in a hurry now he had decided to drink with me. So why was he? Was it my irresistible charm; yeah, unlikely. I handed him the mead bottle I found.

"No cups sorry, I don't really have guests these days." He shrugged, took a swig and sunk into his chair with a sigh. I smiled, more nervous and uncomfortable than I could remember ever having been before. I sat sideways in my hammock, very carefully. Why did I have to be half dressed around him again, it was getting ridiculous.

"Um, so how have you been since I saw you last?

He spoke to the floor; "Went to that cache by the sorghum place, got rolled by your buddy Jesus; little ninja prick"

"Ha, sorry, I guess he thought he had dibs, probably spotted me round there, you're right too; he is a ninja" I smiled, but Daryl was scowling.

"He trustworthy?"

"Yeah, as much as anybody, did you get to Hilltop?"

"Yeah, some fucked shit went down, message from Negan they said, you know him?"

Well fuck, do I lie? I don't want to lie to him, I could tell that would be a deal breaker. But what can I tell him to keep him away; safe?

"I know who he is, he has a lot of men, well provisioned and organised. Alexandria is not ready for that fight. It will be a war. I don't want to lose my favourite guest" I smiled, trying to convey more with my eyes, my soul.

He said nothing, but narrowed his eyes at me, considering. Then took a hefty swig.

"Was that why you came; intel'?" I asked and held out my hand for the bottle.

"Sumthin like that." he rumbled, ducking his head. Unable to fathom a witty response in my surprise; I drank, blushing, to my eternal disdain.

"Cool, um, can I get you something to eat? I have honey, it's amazing, and some dried apple. If you give me some warning next time I could make you honey cakes."I grabbed the honey and fruit while I was talking and dished them onto a plate so he couldn't refuse.

"There you are." I beamed at him, proud to have something to share with my very first visitor.

"Thanks" He dunked a dried apple ring into the honey and popped it in his mouth; licking each finger clean afterwards. Good God, be still my slathering lust; did he always do that, holy shit, did he have any idea of the effect it had?

" You're welcome, anytime. It's really nice to have your company" Instead of going back to my hammock I crouched to get the bottle by his feet, took a swig and then sat on the floor next to his chair. He didn't noticeably tense, so I figured it was okay by him.

We sat like that, very near but not touching, drinking and eating, while I silently wondered what I could and couldn't tell him to build his trust. It was late afternoon now, the bees were buzzing overhead and the birds were returning to the trees around us. Speaking of buzzing, that mead was making me feel pretty mellow and heavy, and this man made my hut feel cozier. I just wanted to snuggle up with him and have a nap; languid, warm and simple; like a couple of cats stretched out together.

I looked up at him, his eyes were looking pretty hooded, he didn't seem to be on guard with me, just quiet and comfortable.

"Dru, what's that shit ya have all over ya?" he asked after a while.

"Oh, I guess I look pretty hideous. It's my combination natural pest spray and camouflage, I was heading off to collect fruit before you came, so I put a fresh lot on" I replied.

"Huh, s'good idea" He gave me an appraising look that made me feel a whole lot warmer.

"How far away's that fruit?" He drained the last of the bottle and sat back, looking very relaxed.

"It's about a day and a half north west, an old orchard with apricots, nectarines and plums, they should be ripe by now."

"Nuff ta share if I give you a ride?" He cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Yes, I could carry more if you came. We should probably wait til tomorrow though, I don't want to fall out of my tree again."

He snorted at me "Head out at dawn then" before swiping his finger in the honey and sucking on it. "Mmmm, honey's real good, ain't had it since forever"

"Glad you like it, it makes really good medicine too, antiseptic, antibacterial and anti-inflammatory.Never goes off. Perfect for post-apocalypse first aid. I can give you some if you like, mini medkit for your bike."

"Hmph, hippy shit's pretty useful nowdays huh" He gave me another of his appraising looks that liquidated my loins.

"Ah, 'cultural anthropologist's practical application from years of research and field work experience shit', thank you" I said, standing and giving him a wobbly curtsy. That earned me another of his snorts; I was really starting to appreciate those.

"I'd better get it now before I forget what the fuck I'm doing, avert your eyes Daryl, this might not be graceful." I grabbed a waxcloth, hiked my sarong above my knees and climbed through my roof hatch to where the hives were above.

The bees greeted me, landing on my bare arms to taste what I had been up to.

"Hello boys, how are you my lovelies?" I blew on them gently, expressing my love and gratitude. "I have a visitor who would really like some of your medicine, he is one of the good ones, I think we need to keep him healthy." I whispered.

The bees moved aside in agreement as I opened the hive and drew out a portion of dripping honeycomb.

"Thank you my darlings."A few stayed on my arm as I wrapped the honeycomb in the cloth, I guessed they wanted to meet him."Coming down again" I warned as I opened the hatch. Climbing one handed in a sarong was a bit tricky, but suddenly there were two large warm hands lifting me off the ladder and onto the floor.

"Oh, thank you" I squeaked.

"Damn, you lighter'n a feather girl" He observed. I was glowing from his nearness, his touch and his low rumbling voice. I handed him the wrapped honeycomb, trying to regain my wits. Then I thought, fuck it, I don't need to think with this man around, might as well get real high and see what happens.Could be fun. Like I said, I didn't do adulting so well since the world went away. Daryl was making me feel like a teenager, so what could be the harm in acting like one?

"Seeing as we aren't going anywhere in a hurry, do you want a smoke?" I asked.

"Cigarette?"

"Ah, no, cigarettes are bad for you, don't you know." I grinned impishly

"Holy shit, ya really are a hippy, yeah alright, don't spose I hafta keep watch up here, if I had trouble spotting ya doubt any other sonofabitch could" He slunk back into the chair and stretched out his legs, now almost completely filling the hut with his body. I was glad I had built it strong enough to hold him, I wondered fleetingly if it would withstand a little action. I sat by him on the floor again with a pillow from my hammock.

"Excellent choice sir, would you please pass me the bag hanging off the back of your chair?"

I noticed the two bees that had come in with me crawling on his pant leg and smiled. I hoped they approved of my choice. I was a little jealous that they would get to taste him first. I could smell him from here; sweat, leather, smoke and machine grease. Delicious.

The bag landed in my lap, I pulled out a hefty bud and tamped it into my pipe. I lit it and swallowed down the first, absolutely delightful, throat burning hit.

"Oh, that makes it all worthwhile, your turn, take all you need" I passed him the pipe and lighter, our hands touched; it felt like the sun on my skin.

I scooched over and plumped my pillow against the legs of the chair and his thigh. Facing away from him with my shoulder touching his thigh seemed acceptable to him, he stayed stretched out and busied himself with smoking the pipe. Perfect.

We said nothing, I didn't want to ruin the communion together with reality.

We finished the bud as the sun disappeared under the horizon, I rested my head on his lap with a sigh. After a while he began to stroke my hair slowly with his big rough hands, watching it fall away in feathery strands. My eyes closed and my breathing slowed. I couldn't remember the last time I was touched with such gentleness; it was heaven after the stresses of day to day survival.

I snuggled in closer, draping my arm over his legs and drifted off to sleep.

I rose a few hours later, sore and stiff and cotton mouthed. Daryl was asleep so I carefully extricated myself from under his arm so as not to wake him.  
I stretched out my body, got a drink of water and had a stealthy wee as quietly as I could.  
I put a bottle of water next to Daryl for when he woke, because he would probably feel as ragged as I did.  
As I leaned in to place the bottle I noticed that his breathing had changed; I was pretty sure he was now only pretending to be asleep.  
So I decided on a devious ploy to call his bluff. I stripped off, making a show of keeping an eye on my sleeping friend and gave myself a standing sponge bath; complete with languid leg stretches and squeezing water over my breasts.  
I believe it would have been quite the show for him peeping out from under his lashes.  
I pulled on a slip dress and robe finally and resumed my position next to his legs on the floor, I could see his face was flushed and his trousers were tenting somewhat. Victory.  
I went to drape my arm over his legs, he snatched it up and opened his eyes.  
"Knew I'd woken up didn't ya?"He pulled me up by the arm til we were face to face.  
"Maybe" I grinned, climbing into his lap, running my hands over his broad shoulders and snuggling my face into his neck.  
"I guess it was a preview for whenever you're ready" I whispered into his ear.  
He folded his big arms around me and buried his face in my hair with a sigh.  
It would have to be enough for now, the invitation had been made, I could see he wanted me. So now I would have to wait for this tortured man to reciprocate.


	8. What's up Doc?

I rose with the morning chorus, dressed for travel and slipped out to attend to my chores and give Daryl some privacy.  
There were no walkers about and no sign of smoke and chaos from Alexandria in the distance; so we were good to go.  
Daryl leaned out the trapdoor a short time later and asked "How did ya git down without the ladder?"  
"Oh, sorry! Up through the roof and across to the maple, then to the birch; there's notches in it" I explained; feeling bad that I had almost left him trapped up there. That would make him embarrassed probably, which wouldn't help our fragile bond any. Shit!  
I didn't use guns and I might need to defend myself with something seeing as we would be foregoing stealth for speed with Daryl's motorbike, so I scrounged the forest floor for a sturdy stick.  
As I bent to pick up a strong looking branch two hands grabbed my waist; it was all I could do to suppress a scream as I dropped my weight to the ground, rolled out of the way and sprang to face my attacker.  
Daryl stood there smirking " Ya might be the best at bein a tree monkey, but I'm still the best at huntin and trackin. That ninja move was real hot though."  
I released my held breath in a huge sigh. "Well played Daryl, well played."

This time I got to enjoy holding on to him tight as we rode to the orchard. The morning was cool and crisp and it felt so good to be pressed up against a warm man as the countryside flew by. This was definitely a day to savour in a world turned upside down.  
Daryl took out a few stray walkers as I collected the fruit from trees; 'monkey style' as he generously put it.  
I showed him a platform I had rigged in a big old plum tree and invited him to come up for morning tea.  
"You serious, morning tea?" he scoffed, but came up all the same.  
I pulled a thermos from my pack along with some honeycomb. Removing the cup from the thermos top and poured out some apple tea in to it.  
"Ta da, your morning tea is served sir!" I pronounced with a flourish.  
"Oh we are some civilised motherfuckers now!" Daryl quipped  
"Make sure you stick your pinky out then" I laughed.  
We tucked into some peaches we had gathered, juice running down our chins and arms; it was perfection. I looked at Daryl then as he enjoyed himself; being free from the constant oppression of survival for a short time. It was everything; tears welled up in my eyes with gratitude for this moment, for him and for me; it was such a gift.  
If he caught the shine of my eyes he didn't acknowledge it, but suddenly he was on duty again.  
"Alright, you gonna come drop these off ta Alexandria with me or what?" He spoke low and without eye contact.  
I was aware this to and fro, hot and cold dynamic was a feature common with trauma survivors from my research and personal experiences. I knew that now was the time to stick with him, be calm and consistent; prove myself, even though it hurt. No point showing him I was fucked up too. Not yet.  
"Sure, do you think Rick will mind me appearing out of the blue?"  
"Na, not if ya got food 'n your with me"  
So we made the trip in silence, the change in Daryl's mood affecting me more than I thought it could. I was never far from bleak depression; how the hell was I going to keep it at bay now. Finally I had reached out and made an authentic connection with another human being; a liability for my chances of autonomy, for what; rejection?  
Fuck.it.all.  


I tried to perk up as we entered through the gate; no point showing weakness, it had no value here.  
A pretty dark haired women greeted Daryl with a punch in the arm and a wink as he dismounted the bike.  
"Hiya, I'm Tara, you must be Dru" she beamed at me.  
"Hello, pleased to meet you; yes I am. I hope you like peaches" I said, indicating our load.  
"Yep, looks like Daryl does too" she teased, giving him a pat on the back before sauntering off.  
Daryl muttered under his breath and stalked off to the house we'd had the meeting in, leaving me to follow at pace.

Michonne opened the door and said "Hey Daryl" then spotted me behind him and stuttered "Uh, hello Dru, what a pleasant surprise" before giving Daryl a smug look.  
We gave our greetings and Michonne invited us in for coffee.  
"Oh, coffee would be amazing, Thank you Michonne."  
Daryl looked so uncomfortable, choosing a seat as far from me as possible; the poor bastard. I could see from Tara and Michonne's reactions to me that they had decided we were either already together or destined to be. I could understand that; the hunter bags a feral tree dwelling woman? Yeah, it did seem a forgone conclusion. But the way Daryl was right now, with his guard up again; showing a potentially traumatic past? Yeah, I wasn't so sure.  


Michonne arranged the coffee setting and accompaniments on a tray and set it before us as Rick came down the stairs looking freshly showered.  
"Daryl and Dru, what a surprise, and coffee, uh, fantastic, thanks Michonne. He looked genuinely surprised, his gaze flicked from Daryl to Michonne for further information.  
I was acutely aware of how feral I looked in this tidy house with light coloured furnishings. So I decided to address the dirty great elephant in the room.  
"Sorry about my rather eccentric appearance, again, ah I wasn't planning on making a housecall. We do come bearing gifts though, some lovely stone fruit picked fresh this morning" I opened my bag to display said fruits.  
"Oh my god" Michonne lunged forward to sniff the fruit. I handed her a peach and offered one to Rick. They both looked like starved dogs slathering over a bone. Daryl smirked at them both from behind his curtain of hair.  
"That's very kind, thank you. You must stay for dinner then, both of you." Rick invited pointedly.  
Daryl looked at me and shrugged "If ya wanna", effectively absolving himself of any decision making and responsibility. Flaming shit.  
"Will it just be you two?" I queried, horrified there could be more than four people attending.  
Rick looked at me quizzically "Yes, you and Daryl and Michonne and I. I can feed the kids earlier."  
I felt the need to explain what had seemed like a rude response "Thank you, I'm sorry, I have a real aversion to more than a small group of people" I paused wondering on the effect of sharing more. Oh well, now or never "I was attacked and beaten to near death by a group in West Papua once, years ago. They decided I was a witch. So, um, I still have a bit of trouble with socialising in public unprepared."  
Daryl was staring at me with a peculiar expression and Michonne leaned over and silently squeezed my shoulder.  
"Fair enough then, I can understand that. Won't be a problem." Rick seemed well equipped to deal with this kind of information, no histrionics, just matter of fact. I appreciated that from him.  
I took a cookie and sipped my coffee "This is divine, I feel like I'm in the lap of luxury. Thank you so much" I savoured the cookie. "I hate to impose, but is there any available facility where I might ah, make myself more respectable?"  
"Daryl has a shower in his ensuite upstairs; it should be clean; it never gets used." Michonne teased, grinning at him.  
"Oh, great, would that be alright Daryl?" I asked him, received a noncommittal "Sure, whatever" in reply.  
"There are some really nice clothes in that wardrobe in our room too; they never fitted me, skinny bitch who lived here was like a size nothing." Michonne added.  
I was really grateful she was here to make me feel comfortable, lord knows neither of the men were doing so. Daryl was sulking and Rick was just watching me with his head cocked to the side.

"Do you mind, if I go and do that now, and then I would really love to share some of my ideas with you if you have time." I was eager to look more normal if I wanted Rick and his team to take me seriously.

"You going to give us an lecture Professor?" Rick asked, not unkindly  
"Yes and no, I thought some sociology theory might be helpful for your community. Uh, and I am a Doctor of Anthropology, not a Professor; that was my Father." I smiled.  
"Wow." Michonne and Rick said in unison as Daryl whistled through his teeth  
"Alright Doc, c'mon" Daryl rose and led the way upstairs.


	9. Come Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A divine visitor and some preaching. Hallelujah!

Daryl opened the door to the master bedroom, I had a peek in their wardrobe and picked out some potential outfits.  
"Ya done?" Daryl inquired, looking as uncomfortable as most men do in women's clothes shops.  
The thought made me smile.  
"Yes, thank you. Seeing this family you have here is really special. I am glad I fell out of my tree for you"  
He looked at me through his hair for a moment before exiting.  
I followed him down the hall to the room at the end. As he opened the door I was hit with the smell; it smelled like every boyfriends shitty flat I remembered from my twenties; the sad miasma of the solitary man. The curtains were drawn and clothes were strewn everywhere.  
"Sorry, weren't spectin guests" He apologised.  
"Ha, thats alright, I'll get dressed in the bathroom and stay out of your stuff."  
"Right, well I got shit ta do, see ya at dinner" He mumbled, exciting as fast as possible in embarrassment.

The ensuite was clean and tidy, the glare of the white on white scheme hurt my eyes after the darkness of the bedroom.  
I flung open the window and looked to the street outside for a moment to adjust them.  
I searched through the vanity and discovered some shampoo, liquid soap and a body brush.  
I stripped and turned on the shower, catching sight of myself in the mirror.  
I was shocked at how I looked now; like the filthy and emaciated yogis I had seen in Calcutta.  
How in the hell had Daryl found me touchable?

I scrubbed myself raw in the shower, getting down to my original skin colour and washing my hair twice.  
Seeing the dirt that washed off me made me feel vulnerable, like a layer of protective facade had been removed.

I dried off, pulled on my knickers and rummaged around in the vanity again for a hairbrush.  
"Wow, you look like an angel"  
"Jesus Fucking Christ!" I spun around to see my old buddy Jesus climbing in through the window.  
"Is that like telling me to go fuck myself?" He joked  
"Yes" I crushed him into a hug, being used to his antics.  
"You should probably put more clothes on Dru, I'm not completely immune to your charms."  
"Is that because I look like a boy these days?" I teased.  
"You still don't, you look like a haute couture model; probably Gaultier with your tattoos" he appraised me front and back.  
"Speaking of which, daaarling, can you help me with these clothes?" I demurred, showing him the outfits I had picked.  
"Oh, these are nice, I like the silk slip dress; that always looks good. Jeans are boring, no. Or the black tee shirt and pants with some makeup; a bit rock and roll. Daryl would probably like that." he answered, altogether too cheekily in my opinion.  
"What makes you think I care what Daryl thinks?" I queried.  
"You are in his bathroom, I know you Dru, you wouldn't be hanging around the 'burbs for just anyone"  
I gave him another hug and a punch in the arm.  
Alright, can you find me some makeup then? I'm going to go with the pants, just in case the 'burbs freak me out and I need to make a run for it.   
I was well aware of his uncanny ability to procure almost anything. Not loaves and fishes yet, but I wouldn't be surprised. Surely the spoiled residents had some luxury items squirrelled away that I could share.

When I came back downstairs dressed and made up, Rick was sitting at the table going over a map with Jesus and Michonne.  
He was saying "We take em out fast and hard before they can raise the alarm" before he turned to see me.  
Jesus gave me a surreptitious wink and Rick just stared for a moment, before turning back to the map.  
Michonne came over and put a hand on my arm, saying "Looks good on you Dru."  
I could tell she was distracting me from the conversation so I gave her an easy out; "I wonder if I could go and help in the gardens until dinner time, it's kinda weirding me out being inside."  
"Sure, we'll drop that fruit off to Olivia too" She looked to Rick for agreement,  
"I'll see you at the church in an hour" he said, and with his slight nod we left.

I looked over Alexandria as we headed to the garden plot, bloodstains on the sidewalks, the lake edge singed, the water fetid, and a battered stars and stripes hanging limp from a veranda. Better Homes; Apocalypse edition.

A slow, viscous rage began to bubble in my gut.  
If they continued to cling to their old world they were fucked, and it would be a gradual torturous one as they were picked off, starved and ravaged with disease.  
I had seen it before. History had seen it before, there was evidence in every colonised nation. The land never forgot, cycles repeated endlessly.  
Old America had destroyed itself long before the outbreak; this scene before me was testament to the residual stupidity of the masses.  
Too slow to change, too scared to fight and too fucking lazy to be free.

Rick couldn't fix this, not on his own; fierce as he was, he couldn't step far enough away to fathom the entirety of the problem.

The gardens consisted of rows of vegetables, planted in predictable, methodical plots. Wilting in the heat.  
The plants, like the human residents here, were not thriving, they were confined by stupidity, lack of foresight and a misunderstanding of nature like every fucking thing else I had seen.

The rage grew.

I looked up to see people heading towards the church.  
I was torn between going back to the forest or putting in one last ditch effort to show these people how life had to be now.

Rick leads the town meeting, all I hear is him justifying violence.  
I know it's a battle they can't win, but I can see they are all committed to attacking the Saviour outpost anyway as the deal has been made with Hilltop.  
I sit next to Jesus, he looks at me with the yoke of guilt around his shoulders. I don't readily see what his ploy is; to gain Alexandria for hilltop when their warriors are dead, to give Negan a new focus to take the pressure off? The last seems the most likely. He must be making breathing space for an alliance against the Saviours. Its a huge risk, he might lose this round and these lives with it.

Rick finishes his speech with a battle cry of "Kill them all"  
It can't end like that I decide, blood lust won't inspire the masses for long.  
When the inevitable happens, and they suffer their first catastrophic defeat at the hands of Negan's Saviours, they will need a vision of a new world to carry them through.

I step into the centre of the church, raise my voice, project my intent with a practiced stance.

"You don't know me, I don't live here, and I'm going to tell you why.  
I live out there, in the forest, safe in the trees, like a wild creature, because there is no society I have found hereabouts that will be successful, yet."  
"I know about societies, I know about survival, it has been my lifes work as a cultural anthropologist to learn, live and teach about adaptation, sustainable systems and why certain types of societies survive and flourish."  
I can tell you right now that yours will not."

Rick, who had sat on the front pew, turned to the rest of the group to gage their opinion. He looked very uncomfortable, but did not interrupt.  
I raised my arm, palm up to indicate him and continued  
"You have a strong leader in Rick, with him are fierce warriors. Their experience and will to fight has kept you alive so far. You have fought tooth and claw to keep this place secure. Now you plan to fight again, to wipe out this new threat.  
I can tell you that is not enough, fight or flight is a survival response, not a way to live.  
If you do survive this fight with the Saviours, this first battle in what will be a war, you will not survive your ignorance.  
Not unless you are all willing to change, transform and let go of methods and ways of thinking destroyed the old world."

The residents shifted in their seats, a rumble of discontent rose. Time to hit the message home.

"The grass in front of your homes, what purpose is that serving?" I shouted, walking down the aisle, addressing individuals, getting in their faces. They didn't like it, but they were transfixed.  
"The lake you torched, what is living in there now?  
Where are your medicinal plants, your berries, your wheat field, your nut trees, your oil crops?  
Where is your next lot of crops coming from, where is your seed store?  
Where are your animals? Rabbits, chickens, sheep, pigs, bees, fish, pigeons, horses?  
How long do you really think scavenging from a dead world is going to sustain you, your children, their children?"  
I paused to let that sink in, listened to the reaction as I returned to the front of the church. I heard the murmurs, felt the opinions begin to shift.

A woman from Rick's group stood at the back, armed and angry "The animals are what made us sick at the prison, the pigs, they spread that flu virus to us. People died overnight, turned, slaughtered the rest."

Rick stepped up to the centre of the aisle "Or we made them sick Sascha, the walkers outside had the virus, I saw it. There's nothing we can do against that, no medicine will work that fast even if we could find it." He scratched at his stubble.

I continued; impassioned.  
"Do you see yet? We have lived like parasites for centuries, disease is Nature's most effective weapon against our destructiveness. We eradicate one disease and a new, more virulent strain appears. Disease is what has wiped the slate clean. We can't beat it. We no longer have the technology or resources to even try. Nature wins, nature always fucking wins, who the fuck are you to think you can control her?"

Bring it home baby. I leapt onto the front pew. stabbed my finger at the audience.  
"YOU are her servants, YOU work for Nature, THAT is what your big old brains and opposable thumbs are for, THAT is how you thrive. How the fuck have you STILL not figured that out?!"  
I calmed myself, lowered my tone and spread my arms to the gathering.  
"Until you return to her, rip out these bricks, this concrete, these fucking lawns, until you allow the weeds to grow, harness the wind, the sun, the rain, until then, you are just dying in the past". With that, I left. Chew on that motherfuckers.

 

After a very tasty, but rather uncomfortable dinner, I laid out my plans, maps and notes on the table.  
Rick, Michonne, Daryl and Jesus leaned in examine them.  
"This looks, involved." Rick started, cocking his head and squinting over my plan for Alexandria.  
"It looks amazing, if we could pull it off. Maggie and Deanna had always planned to extend the fence." Michonne added, tracing her finger over the plan.  
"Deanna knew what this place was supposed to look like from the start, she helped plan it." I said, willing now to divulge my attachment to the place.  
"How do you know that?" Rick queried, fixing his full attention on me  
"I was on the planning committee, I helped set this place up. It was supposed to be a sustainable community that would survive peak oil and food scarcity."  
"You were here from the start?" Ricks tone grew dangerous.  
"Not exactly, I was just on the planning committee, I gave them the relevant research and permaculture literature so we could develop a workable model for this place. Deanna seemed to be on board, they sunk a lot of money into it and saw it through. It also appears they cut every fucking corner they could and let people buy in that didn't share the vision."  
I looked at Rick then, he was staring at nothing, processing. So I waited.  
Jesus had done his usual trick and kept silent, fading into the background. Clearly he wasn't willing to share our connection, his history. So I ignored him, best leave that card for a later play.  
Daryl chewed at his thumb as he scanned the map, I couldn't tell if he was planning tomorrow's attack or plotting out his lifes journey.  
"Rick sighed and looked over to me, his shoulders squared and his tone determined "Alright, what do you need?"  
Michonne gripped his upper arm, apparently relieved that he was seeing a better future ahead.  
"I want a team to develop this place, I'm not asking for your fighters, I just want people strong enough to do the work and the children to watch and learn."  
Rick nodded almost imperceptibly. So I continued.  
"We need to transform the inside of Alexandria so that it looks like the forest outside, a food forest, where nothing goes to waste, including people. Everything here needs to serve its function, including shit, and I'm not even joking. Recycling means everything. We need to grow enough to feed everyone, to store and to trade."  
"Trade with who, Hilltop, who else is out there?" Rick asked, looking from me to Jesus and back again.  
Shit, now was not the time to shift his focus. "Whoever we find out there we need tradeable commodities for, I'm not talking about the Saviours now, let's imagine you have defeated them. Let's imagine small groups spread around like us and Hilltop that we can trade with; eventually that will develop into a trade economy. We start with Hilltop and determine which commodities we need to develop to thrive." I tried to explain without giving too much away.  
Rick bought it for now, asking "What if they are like the Saviours though, trying to overpower us, attacking our people?"  
"Then we fight back, from here, our position of strength." I indicated the plans I had drawn.  
"As for defences, that wall is not enough, I'm sure you already know that. I am thinking of the pa defense of the Maori and the tunnels of the Viet Cong. We need at least two layers of defensive pallisades and tunnels underneath to survive a seige. We can build underground storehouses off the tunnels to to keep them functional and cleared. If we get overrun that's how we get out, then back in later."  
I reflected for a moment; when the fuck did I start saying 'we'?  
Rick stood, placing his hand on his hip. Looking at Michonne and Daryl for agreement. "Alright, I'll action it when we get back. Until then you can start on the food forest and cleaning out the lake or whatever it needs. However, and this is non-negotiable, not one of your assigned crew steps a foot outside Alexandria without my say so, including you."

Shit, so he was going to put me in lockdown. Check fucking mate. I had just done my best to illustrate that they were sitting ducks here, and now he was going to make me stay. I swallowed my first few responses and managed to say "Okay. Uh, I hadn't planned on staying, I'll need to go and get my supplies."  
"Not tonight, or tomorrow, we'll take you when we get back. You'll need to be available to the residents, I'm sure they're going to have a lot of questions tomorrow." Rick looked almost smug telling me that. I guessed he was glad to be able to delegate some responsibility to me. I wished Deanna was still around, she deserved this load, not me.

Michonne rose from the table, effectively calling a halt to proceedings.  
"I'll sort out some clean clothes for you Dru, maybe you and Jesus can share the attic room. Now, who's up for coffee?"


	10. Before you go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dru reels Daryl in

"So, sweet baby Jesus, what do you have to say for yourself? Care to explain why you are leading our hot hunter and his pals off to the slaughter?" I asked when we were finally alone in the attic.  
"Hot hunter?" Jesus inquired, attempting innocence.  
"You knew where his bathroom window was, so don't pretend you're not interested in his, ah, welfare."  
"Sadly he just goes in there to pee, maybe you'll have more luck. Maybe we could arrange a, ah, group therapy session?" Jesus waggled his eyebrows lewdly.  
"Excellent diversion, didn't work though, why?" I grilled  
"It wasn't my call, Maggie made the deal, they are rescuing one of ours as a trade, Craig. We will need them to win the war against the Saviours, the retaliation from this attack will ensure they are committed. They are strong, they will likely only lose the chaff." Jesus admitted at last. He looked haunted by his decision. I felt sorry for him, gambling with lives was tearing at his last vestige of morality.  
"I wondered if that was your angle. Well, cheer up, nothing to it but to do it now ol' chum. What say we go and give ourselves a wee distraction courtesy of Dangerous Daryl? I'll see if I can hook you up some visuals for the spank bank." I leered.  
Honestly when the two of us get together, it's pure nihlistic villainy. We share a distinct lack of moral fortitude and far too much enjoyment in maintaining our mutual facade of benevolent virtue. We also share a lust for Daryl, which I still couldn't understand. Why was he so irresistible? He was a filthy redneck with serious baggage. I knew it was dangerous to be so distracted, so perhaps that's why I did my best to sabotage any chance with him.  
Still, best not to think too much about my self destructive motives, this is supposed to be a redemption song.

I removed my bra and pants and tiptoed downstairs to Daryl's room. Jesus may or may not have followed on silent feet, I didn't see him after I left the attic.  
I pushed open the bedroom door and whispered "Hey" into the darkness.  
"Hey" came the response. The moonlight fell on the still shape of a shirtless Daryl stretched out on the bed.  
I crept over and crawled up to lie beside him. He made no comment or move to stop me, I took that as encouragement.  
"Are we alright now? I need us to be okay before you go tomorrow." I spoke softly, curling into his side as I had before.  
"Yeah, we're good" he said, letting go of something unspoken as he breathed out.  
Taking the opportunity, my hands smoothed and rubbed over his shoulders and chest. I felt his body loosen at my touch.  
Me, the spider, weaving the web, waiting for my moment to strike.  
He sighed into the darkness, his fingers in my hair.  
I climbed on top of him and sank my body onto the expanse of his, those solid arms folding to enclose me. His mouth on my forehead. Too sweet, too easy.

Then the walls closed in, I was caged, placated by this man stroking me. Here I was on my way to being domesticated again. My entire being rebelled.  
Too late to stem the rising tide. I craved a reaction, something, fierce, fast. Something to remind me I was alive, human. The darkness flooded my empty insides, telling me to hit, to hurt, bite, claw. This sweet embrace was poison, trying to dredge up someone I could have been, a face I wore that was a lie. She was murdered, raped, ripped open, turned inside out, left to rot a long time ago. Stupid bitch.  
I needed a drink, to fuck ferociously, weed, something to keep me level. Being around people, especially this close, was going to kill me. 

"Dru? what do you need?" Daryl whispered, still, attentive, because he fucking knew. Of course he did.  
"An off switch for my head, a muzzle for that black dog. Real pain, not this phantom shit." It spilled out, because he knew, understood. I very nearly hated him for it, but not nearly as much as I hated myself for binding him to me with it. It would work though. I would share my horror with him and I would have him completely.  
He wrapped his hand around in my hair then, and pulled, properly, arm flexing and my neck bending back to it's full extension. I lunged forward and crushed my mouth onto his, feeling his open, our tongues meeting, sliding over each other. His hand moved from my hair to grasp the back of my neck, hard. I gripped his jaw, growling into his mouth, squeezing his flesh, biting into his lip and sucking away the blood.  
"Fuck" he grunted, pushing my face away, pushing me off him, then rolling on top of me, pinning my arms over my head with one huge hand.  
I struggled, smashed my hips and pubic bone into his crotch, gnashing my teeth at him. He dropped his full weight on me and laid his supporting arm against my throat.  
"Stop, shhhh, shhhh" He said, his face swimming above mine. He moved his arm off my throat. I shut my eyes, shut him out.  
I felt him twitch and grow though, pressed hard against me as he was.  
Too close, I had to breathe, soften, regain control. Such a thin, fragile line between showing him enough to compel, yet not enough to reveal my entire ugly truth.

I undulated, gently, hips rolling languidly beneath him, a low breathy moan in his ear. He loosened his grip. I took advantage and twisted his hip over with my thighs. Ending on top of him. Now my arm lay across his throat. He barely resisted. Waiting.

"You don't get to decide when I stop. Not until you know. You brought me here, you caged me. You need to bear witness to what I am, to what comes next." I seethed.  
I stood then, drawing the curtain open, bathed in moonlight. His eyes were on me, transfixed. Watching me removing my top, my knickers. I heard his breath catch.

My pale skin glowed through the patterns of the black ink etched all over my body. I picked up his heavy hand and traced the cruel lines of my abdominal scars.  
His fingers gently crept over the expanse of twisted flesh, his palm then smoothed over my belly before he brought his hand to rest on my waist.  
"This is where they cut me open to rip out my child. Fourteen men with machetes and burning oil who called me a witch. I was starved, raped and tortured. They cut out my entire womb and buried my ba-, the fetus, alive in it. It was three days before I could be extracted from that village and flown to an Australian hospital. The infection had spread by then and half of my bowel had to be removed. All of that was before the outbreak.  
Long story short, I, I can't be with people. Not for long, it hurts. I lose it." I felt cold. Thoroughly. "I'm sorry, I'm fucked and it's not your problem. I thought you would get it though. I don't know." The rage had diminished, absorbed into my expanse of interstitial space until next time.

Daryl's arms reached for mine, soundlessly he directed me under the covers and lay down at my back, arm over my side and a hand on my belly. He held me like that for a time in silence.  
"You survived, 'n you can help us survive. That's worth everything." he whispered finally.  
I moved his hand up to the centre of my chest.  
"Thank you" I breathed, turning to face him, willing myself to relax, be present and pliable again.  
He smoothed my hair and kissed my forehead.  
I became very aware that I was still naked and he was halfway there.  
I pressed myself against him, under the guise of needing his comfort.  
I detected his temperature rising and smelt the salt and vinegar tang of his growing arousal with satisfaction.  
I feigned a stretch, reaching my arms up, arching my back and pushing my mound into his crotch, feeling his firmness.  
I brought my arms down around his neck, my fingers delving into his hair, stroking, scratching and ever so gently pulling.  
Daryl shifted his hips then, his hard cock rubbing across my pubis.  
"Mmmm. Don't tease me, you know I bite when I'm frustrated." I warned, my mouth at his ear, teeth toying with his earlobe.  
"Girl, I ain't teasin." He growled, the rumble vibrating right down to my cunt as he was pushing my shoulder into the bed and forcing his knee up between my thighs.  
"Oh fuck Daryl" I yanked his head down to my mouth and groaned my anticipation into it. Our tongues wrestling with each other, audible smacking and sucking noises as we almost ate each others faces.

I was so relieved I wouldn't have to resort to my plan of smacking him around to get into ferocious fucking mode. This ownership arousal thing that he was doing was far more productive and less likely to rack him with guilt. I had thought pleasant surprises were a thing of the past. Apparently not.  
Now I just had to remember to be vulnerable afterwards instead of gloating at my genius. Fingers crossed.

His huge arms and meaty hands were crushing bruises into my upper arms.  
A shaft of light illuminated the glint of pure lust in his eyes.  
Yes.  
I mashed my cunt onto his thigh, smearing his pants with my well lubricated pussy.  
"Please Daryl, please, I need you." I pleaded, squirming, seemingly mad with passion underneath him.  
That seemed to be what he needed to go through with it, suddenly he was clumsily, frantically trying to release himself from his pants.  
I sat up, not willing to miss the big reveal.  
Finally Daryl was naked, soft moonlight highlighting his powerful thighs and more than adequate cock as it jutted out from the shadow of his pubic hair.  
I wasn't sure if he would know how to go down on me, so I took charge, coating my hand in spit and wrapping it around his cock.  
"You look delicious" I purred, sliding my tongue across his lips.  
Daryl grunted in reply, hesitating for a moment at the sensation of me slowly, firmly wanking him before thrusting into my hand.  
Oh my, he certainly wasn't experienced, but ten points for enthusiasm.  
"Oh fuck you feel good, I want you inside me" I moaned, taking his hand and rubbing myself with it.  
Clearly I was going to have to get on top to make this worthwhile, somehow without hurting his feelings, or this was going to be a one off, and I certainly didn't want that.  
"Fuck girl, you're soaking" He panted.   
"For you" I whispered. He didn't have to know I had greased up in preparation. Men and their unrealistic expectations were nothing new to me. I wanted him, badly, and I was very aroused, but 'dripping wet' wasn't possible since my surgeries.  
"I want to ride you Daryl, like you ride that bike of yours" I shoved him backwards onto the bed. He looked stunned, unsure. He was horizontal now though, so I slithered up him like a snake, pausing to inhale the hot musk of his pubes and lathing his turgid cock with my tongue.  
Such a delightful stuttering groan erupted from him when I did that.  
"Fuck Dru, I ain't gonna last like that" the poor man rumbled, clutching at the sheets.  
I climbed up further, raising my cunt so he could see me fingering myself before guiding that gorgeous cock into my velvet interior.  
Daryl was frozen, utterly absorbed by the sensation. Holy shit, how long had it been for him?  
I angled so he was totally ensheathed in me, then I held still, leaning just enough to kiss him, slowly, languidly.  
I was waiting for him to relax and take the lead.  
I clenched rhythmically, subtly keeping him hard but in control.  
Daryl groaned, low, his hands roaming my waist and back, his hips starting to rise beneath me. I took the cue and began moving, rocking, sliding up and down his cock tantalisingly slow, building a rhythm with him.  
"Feel so fucking good girl" I could make out his face in the moonlight, his hair fallen away, mouth open, enraptured, captivated.  
I kissed him hard then, feeling the bloom of connection flooding my core.  
"You want to go slow, feel me come?" I asked, raising myself up til just his tip was inside me, rubbing at my clit, hair flung over my shoulder.  
"Yeah" he uttered, seemingly working hard to maintain thinking function.   
I went porno mode then, gyrating my hips, working my clit, moaning, squeezing my breasts, flinging my hair.  
Is it too narsistic to say my act was making me as hot as he was? Whatever. You know how it is; fake it til you make it.

Daryl was a tight ball of concentration, trying not to blow his load before I came. Ladies first, what a gentleman.  
He looked like he was really struggling, I had to come fast.  
Time for the old faithful fingers in my arse trick. I hoped it wouldn't shock him. If he even noticed.

Rubbing furiously with one hand, I coated two fingers of my other hand with saliva and thrust them into my arse. Hips rocking, my breath coming in gasps I moaned "I'm gonna come now, come with me".  
I whined, growled and panted to my climax, clenching and milking his cock all the way.  
White hot release burned and shuddered through me, Daryl's cry and look of complete helplessness told me he had come too.  
Success thrummed through my being. I felt the bindings tighten between us.  
Knowing what a crafty little spider I was brought a smile of sly satisfaction to my face.  
"Oh, mmmmm, you were fantastic Daryl" I purred, releasing him to lick off the sweat from his chest and neck.  
His body relaxed, his arms enfolding me again, mouth warm against my scalp. I could feel he wanted to sleep now, physical and emotionally exhausted from travailing unfamiliar territory.  
What a shame. My teeth itched to bite his arse, fight, fuck, win. I needed a few rounds to be satisfy my hunger.  
Ah well, perhaps we would have time in the morning.


	11. Run for your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If Daryl falls in love with you, he is going to love you forever."  
> Which is a horrifying prospect for our antihero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write in English, not American.  
> Adjust your visual cortex accordingly.  
> Thanks :)

The sun woke me just after dawn, lighting up the carnage that was Daryl's room.  
I found myself spreadeagled in the centre of the bed with Daryl's warm, heavy limbs entangled in mine.  
I gazed upon his powerful body with a predatory hunger. Those strong defined thighs leading up to such a delicious rounded arse, thick scars accentuating the twist of muscles threading into his spine, oh and those fucking huntsman arms, Jesus Hell.  
I gritted my teeth and dug my nails into my palms.  
I wanted to fuck him bloody, to feel him lift me, crush me, tenderise my flesh, as we battled for sexual supremacy.

I couldn't bring myself to try though, my mind was revolting at my body's command.  
I felt weird, almost violated about sleeping soundly through the night, it was something I hadn't done for years. This man felt way too much like home, it was putting me on edge. Casual attachment was fine, lust was entirely acceptable, but this comfortable, 'normal' bullshit was not going to fly.  
I scrabbled for my top and knickers, yanked them on in haste and fled the scene.  
I would have to avoid fucking him for a while, and certainly not share his bed overnight again, at least not until these feelings had subsided a bit.  
Alternatively I could chill the fuck out and just let whatever was going to happen, happen. Right?  
Oh God. I was totally overthinking this, was it too early for a drink? Would Sherrif Rick bust me if I snuck out for a smoke?  
But wait, I had none of my stuff on me. Shit.  
Had Daryl actually set me up to get trapped here?  
Oh Fuck, now I was being paranoid too. Maybe. Was a paranoid even an actual thing anymore?  
This is what came of spending time with other people. Fucking drama.  
If I didn't get back to my hut soon I was going to go fucking ballistic.

I strode off to the horrid little lake; surely hacking at the shitty surrounding grass and transforming it into useful soil would make me feel better. If I could manage to ignore that Daryl and crew were toddling off to the slaughter today.  
Work, that's what I needed, hard manual labour.  
Endorphins flooding into my system.  
So long as those suburbanites left me the fuck alone.

I cleaved the uniform green with the cold metal, revealing rich loamy soil beneath the entwined wormy knots of root balls.  
A vision rose of maggots, decay, charred flesh rotting into a rebirth.  
I smelt the earth, tinged with the scent of smashed grass blades.  
My mind carried my back to the jungle, wet smothering heat, palms and vines transforming into multitudes of bodies and arms encircling me, my shovel edge sharpened steel like the machetes that hacked at my flesh.

I was three quarters of the way around the lake, again smeared in my customary filth, muttering and sweating rivulets down my face and back, when Daryl's arm appeared in my vision. He held the shovel I was trying to punish the grass with, his muscles bunched as he fought briefly with me for it's possession.  
"Wouldja stop?!" he ordered through his wall of hair, the visible portion of his face looking almost amused at my frenetic endeavours.  
I clenched my jaw as I calculated possible responses to my first reaction to tell him to fuck off and die, especially if he then did just that in today's battle.  
I had still not responded when he added in a softer voice, "Made ya breakfast, it's gettin cold"  
I stilled my struggle, distracted with surprise.  
This is not how he was supposed to be reacting to me jilting him.  
He was supposed to be hurt, to withdraw, protect himself from me. Not offer up patience and understanding like I was a fucking willful child, or an untrained pet.  
Gentle hands peeled my fingers from the shovel, turned them over to show the puffy, weeping blisters my lapse of reason had caused.  
"I'm gunna hafta find you some gloves girl, c'mon, betcha haven't drunk nothin either." Daryl put his hand in the small of my back as a warm encouragement to return to the house with him. His other hand was open out at his side, like he was trying to soothe a frothing beast.  
I bristled at the implication that I couldn't look after myself, that I needed this man's help. Being an idiot occasionally was my fucking prerogative. I was still alive though wasn't I?   
Fuck him and his Little House on the Prairie fucking bullshit; I wasn't going to live in a cage, whatever the bars might be made of.  
Never again.

I spun a roundhouse kick into his gut, slamming the blade of my hand into his occipital junction immediately afterward as he folded in half.  
That downed him effectively, even though the thick muscle of his neck cushioned my blow.  
I sprinted for the fence then, scrabbling up the supports and hoisting myself up and over.  
I made for the trees at a dead run, scanning for movement ahead.  
Seeing none I slowed to find a climbable tree, the rest of the journey home would be through the canopy.  
There was no point trying to cover my tracks though, I had the feeling Daryl would find me wherever I went now.  
If he survived the night.


	12. My a'th kar, karer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of trees, witches and promises.

Home and dry found me craving to be anything but. I ripped my new clothes off, slathered myself in henna and got to work emptying a jar of mead.  
Free at last.

Once I felt level I laid down a new batch of mead, rules and concentration inherent in the process allowing me to return fully to myself.  
I had managed to justify my ridiculous escape by telling myself that I had adhered to Daryl's image of me as a wild creature running scared.

Now that I could think straight, it was time to decide if I was going to support Alexandria or not. There was a chance Rick's group could survive the attention of the Saviours, they had already secured a deal with Hilltop. Therefore combined trade with The Kingdom was a viable next option.  
If they survived the first wave of retaliation.  
I felt compelled to try and distract Negan somehow. It was a compulsion I had to quash, showing my face there would reveal my hand far too soon. Negan was unaware of my dealings with Alexandria and current my position of strength relied heavily on him remaining that way.  
I felt weariness in my soul, it was well past due to drop this illusion of impartiality I had harboured. I cared. I was invested. It was fucking me up. No longer was I just the Apocalyptic Scribe. I had to come back to life, to play my part.  
I figured staying high was probably the best way to stay on track without losing myself in the past or possibility.  
What? It had worked well so far. I only freaked out when I was sober, so I just had to avoid that state and everything would be peachy.  
Have you not heard of the drunken kung fu masters? Yeah, that's me.

 

After a week of keeping high and busy I was ready to see Daryl again. Well, ready is an understatement. I had been telling myself I was wandering the countryside foraging for food and seeds, but that was only a side effect of my drifting around aimlessly hoping to run into Daryl while he was out hunting. I had visions in my head of how we would shack up in a cleared out cabin, snuggle up by the fire, maybe make long, drawn out, exploratory love on a fucking bearskin rug or some such unrealistic shit. Nevermind marauding malevolence in the form of reanimated corpses and murderous men.  
I had to act, be honest with myself and take a chance on life again.

A little trip was in order.  
I put on my black jeans, knife belt, camo shirt, and some of the leather armour I had been busy making from chopping up bags and shoes I scavenged. I had a gorget for my neck attached to a shoulder pauldron; that had all come from someones hideous brown, eighties style leather jacket. I had studded leather belts repurposed into bracers around my wrists and a couple of handbags sliced open and strapped around my shins above my combat boots. It looked suitably post apocalyptic if I did say so myself.  
I sharpened up my walking staff and headed East.  
I was really going to have to get a horse one of these days. My armour would save me from a snake bites and a few surprise walker chomps, but it was fucking annoying to climb in. So I had to walk on the ground like a regular human, for fucking miles. Those lurching groaning mother fuckers had thinned out a far bit lately, but every mile or so one or two would notice me and come staggering over to say hi. My arms were aching from spearing the last few ugly fucks. By the time I reached Alexandria I was ready to either collapse or fucking annihilate someone. I used the last of my energy to climb up the big sycamore overlooking the compound and set myself up with medicinal sticky bud in my pipe.

It was early evening, a couple of men I didn't recognise were on the gate, I spotted Michonne and Rick walking back to their house. Rick's posture was unusual, the swagger was missing.  
He was still alive though, Alexandria was still intact, clearly Negan had not retaliated with all out war. They must be giving him tribute like the Kingdom and Hilltop then.  
But where was Daryl?  
Is that what the slump in Rick's shoulders was about?

I felt sick, my stomach roiling at the thought of my hunter being smashed to smithereens by Lucille.  
I would stay here, rope myself to the tree, ration out my canteen of water and wait for Daryl.  
Or make vigil.  
I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to climb back down if he didn't appear.

(...I know that I hung on a windy tree nine long nights  
wounded with a spear  
dedicated to Odin  
myself to myself  
on that tree  
from which no man knows  
from where its roots run...)

Was it nine nights?  
Probably not.  
I was shivering and sweating from exposure  
muttering my way through the Havamal over and over  
looking for signs, runeform in the branches  
the light on the wings of the crows and vultures hovering, hopping, pecking at me.  
I came back to movement, stretching, blood reaching again into my extremities.  
A feather I plucked from a persistent crow, plaited into my hair.  
How could I have forgotten my power?  
I was a conduit, a catalyst, a Crone.  
The skeins of life and death twisted through my hands.  
I had tasted of his blood, he would not be lost to me without a fight.  
My Wolf, My Cernunnos.  
I took a sip of my water, stretched and relaxed.  
Winding my mind around the path of the labyrinth, metal red on my tongue, I flew.  
Sending my sigil out to my trusted friend, knowing not if I could wake this time.

Out and out on the astral plane, follow the red skein to its end.  
Through fear, black pools of death, smoke and danger, closer.  
Grey on grey, hard concrete, damp and dark.  
There.  
Dirt and flesh in a ball of despair, such a weight, sorrow and guilt crushing out the oxygen in my lungs.  
I gasped it back in, held it, then pushed my senses further, breathed his name into the wind.  
"Daryl, Karer."  
Slowly he unfurled in the dark, wolf eyes catching my light, seeing me.  
I was slipping, my concentration blown by the shock.  
My last effort was to wrap the words around him, hold him in my warmth, a promise.  
"I will come for you, my a'th kar."

I woke to hands scrabbling at my knots.  
A soft palm cupping my cheek.  
"Dru, come back, we need you."  
"Paul" I could feel the cold stone of magical consequence rattling in my too heavy skull.  
Jesus held warm broth to my lips, I smelt the fat and salt within, all that I needed to return to the ground, literally and figuratively.  
He rubbed my limbs back to life, as feeling returned to my face I could feel it was wet.  
"We have to get him. From Negan."  
Jesus nodded.  
Slowly, carefully, he lifted me.  
I clung to his back, down and out of that tree,  
...of which no man knows from where its roots run...  
returning blood flow searing and stabbing at my nervous system, still not nearly approaching the pain in my head, the tearing at my soul.


	13. Jesus takes the wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we find out more about Jesus and Dru's relationship

I wasn't ready to enter Alexandria, I was enclosed still in a fog of pain and liminality.  
Jesus went in alone, returning with a silver sedan, engine running, door open to me.  
We drove along long roads littered with leaves, twisted metal skeletons and lumps of former people.  
The cage of moving metal was inherently wrong, I couldn't touch the ground, hear the murmur of the trees.  
Leaning out the window, I gasped for air, panic starting to set in.  
"Tan tien" Jesus admonished, reaching over to tap my belly.  
It was what I needed, our shared language of Chi Kung training came back to me.  
I centred my breathing in my lower abdomen, stilling my mind, grounding my energy.  
My chi grew stronger, a ball of luminescence. I began to cycle it through my body in meditation.  
An expanse of time elapsed.  
Calm, focused, I opened my eyes to see we were approaching the Hilltop estate.  
"Stay here, I have a surprise." Jesus spoke softly, huge eyes glittering.  
His posture had changed too, now that I was aware enough to notice.  
Whatever had happened had taken a huge toll on him.  
But now I was ready to pull them out of limbo. The forgotten tools of my heritage again at my disposal.  
I had so much I could use, all that knowledge that had lain dormant, waiting.  
A serpent in my belly.  
Words of power twisting along the helix of my genealogy.  
They had not ripped that from me.

The click clack clop of hooves drew me out of my reverie.  
Here was my beaming hero, leather clad, flowing hair, leading a magnificent horse towards me. Epic.  
I stepped out of the car, entranced.  
The low angle of light set the horse's chestnut coat aflame.  
She shone in my vision, head high, mane lifting in the breeze.  
"Epona, Rhiannon, Macha, meur ras." I whispered in gratitude.  
"Thought you might prefer this mode of transport, I'll follow in the car." Jesus explained.  
I hugged him tightly. She was exactly what I needed.  
"Where did they find you darling?" I asked her, holding out my hand for her to investigate.  
"Out by Rose Hill, the stables there, brought two others back too, she's the sweetest." Jesus stroked her flank, the horse huffed into his hair in appreciation.  
"She's perfect. What's her name?"  
"Ah, Rosie, ah of Rose Hill?" Jesus guessed.  
"No, that is pathetic. Right, well her name is Epona then. A Goddess in horse form. Do you like that better my Lady?"  
Epona snorted, nodded and lifted her front leg.  
"That's settled then." I declared, rubbing her nose and pressing my forehead to hers. She smelled of childhood memories, happiness.  
"Are you alright to ride Dru?" Jesus asked, rubbing my back and pulling my hair away from my face.  
"Yeah, I'm gonna be okay" I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes, safe.

I was constantly amazed at his willingness to love me without reserve. I had always imagined I was too cold, too unpredictable, too damaged to be lovable. Not for him.  
From the very first we had formed a bond, that pull of recognition that happens so rarely in life. In time I discovered that when souls meet across space and time you have to put ego aside, allow the connection to adapt to the context of your life.  
The less I tried to control it the better. It seemed so easy for him. He led the way.  
Damn I had wanted it to be a sex thing so badly though, we half tried, just to make sure. But no.

In our case we had meet when he served me a drink in a bar. I later discovered he didn't even work there, just pretended to when it was busy, pocketing tips and meeting men. Suave bastard!  
After that we spoke about our bond like it was the most natural thing in the world, spending as much time as we could with each other.  
He started attending my lectures even though he wasn't a student and I started attending his martial arts training. We practised Chi Kung and Tai Chi together each morning at dawn on my balcony. Before long he moved into my spare room. I supported him happily for almost two years, having been lonely but mortally afraid of close relationships. I suppose having him around all the time healed a lot of my trauma, he never asked me about my past, never mentioned my self medicating, just paid attention in that way he has.

He had gone upstate to visit his family, his mother was sick, it sounded urgent. That was when it all hit. He knew where I was headed, my section of woods I had bought in Huntly Meadows. I had plans to build a sustainable Earthship and permaculture food forest. Jesus had helped me move camping supplies out there. Pending permits, we were starting the build in Summer.  
Well that didn't quite pan out.  
So here we were, survivors, at the end of the world, still together.  
And now we were off to rescue the man who had captured our hearts.  
I laughed at the incongruity of it all.

"Alright, ready?" Jesus asked, interlocking his palms to hoist me up onto Epona.  
I stepped onto his hands, swinging my leg over the mare's back. Settling into the saddle I playfully scoffed "Ugh, Western, it's like a bloody great cock sticking up in the air waiting for a hand job. Hmmph, I suppose I'll manage."  
"Would you have preferred bareback? I have heard that about you" Jesus grinned  
"Fuck you sweetie." I retorted.  
Jesus then got into the sedan and drove sedately back down the road.  
I followed on Epona, murmuring sweet encouragement to her as she adjusted to me.  
It felt so good to be on a horse again. I was hoping Epona was enjoying it too.  
Soon enough things would get ugly.  
I didn't imagine Negan was going to let go of his prize willingly.  
Lucky I had a plan then, huh.


	14. Gimme Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus does his thing

Jesus and I came to a stop around the back of the compound at the treeline.  
I shut Epona's rein in the car door, she would be able to pull free and run if walkers appeared.  
Jesus popped the trunk and pulled out the three molotovs he'd made, capped and strapped together in a cloth bag so they wouldn't clink.  
Then he handed me a watch, a string of fireworks and a lighter that I stuffed into my jeans.  
"Alright, he should be ground floor, southwest corner. Dwight, the blonde one with the burned face should have the cell keys, or the really fat one. Lunch bell is at 12.30, I'll hit 12.35. Okay?" I said, concentrating on my breathing, trying to stay calm.  
Jesus leaned in and squeezed my shoulder. "No problem. We can do this Dru."  
"I think he knows we're coming, but, if he, if, he's, if he can't walk" I started  
"I can get him out Dru, I remember exactly how heavy he is. I'll get a wheelbarrow or something if I have to okay? I can do it."Jesus assured me, his hands holding my face, making me register his determination.  
I pulled away, checking the watch. 11.40. Time to go.  
"Okay, alright, I know. I'll see you back here in one piece then. I love you baby Jesus" I said, reassuring myself. I knew better than anyone what he could do. My own personal ninja. I felt my resolve strengthen as I hoisted myself up into the branches.  
"Love you too" I heard, turning to watch him slink away low and quiet.  
I climbed up level with the roof, all quiet on the western front.  
Centering my chi I reached out my senses, feeling for movement and intent.  
Nothing close. I made the leap onto the roof. Crouching low I ran to the ventilation outlet. The only cover available other than the stairwell door. Breathe.  
I heard Negan before I felt him, bellowing abuse at someone on the floor below.  
Perfect, had to be a henchmen to earn an extended monologue like that. Hopefully a couple of them  
I checked the time 12. 28. I uncapped and spread out the molotovs ready, rags out, waiting to be lit.  
The lunch bell sounded. My hands were shaking, my heart hammering. I took a deep breath, dropped into a horse stance, hard and soft, grounded.  
12.35, go!  
I ran to the stairwell, opened the door, threw one lit molotov right down the centre to the ground floor.  
Orange and red bloomed.  
I moved around to the opposite side, lit and threw the second at the corner of the second floor landing.  
Out the door and sprinting across to the ventilation shaft, I ripped the cover off, my skin tearing on the rusted broken mesh.  
I lit and thew the last molotov down the shaft.  
Seconds left to act, I ran to across the roof to the south side where the main entrance was, lit the firecraker string and volleyed it as far as I could into the courtyard.  
I heard shouting, chaos, popping.  
They hadn't come up to the roof, confusion still reigned.  
I jumped for my tree, climbing out over the wall and down into the treeline.  
Holy Fuck.

Epona was still next to the car, prancing and snorting nervously.  
I stroked her flank, told quiet lies about how everything was fine, slowly calming the both of us down.  
It seemed a fucking eternity before I glimpsed Jesus stalking through the trees.  
Wait, alone?  
A gasping sob escaped before I could swallow it.  
"No!" I cried, louder than I meant to.  
I clenched my jaw, harden the fuck up Dru, I had lost all the others, why not him too?  
Jesus approached, face flushed and eyes glowing.  
His expression threw me.  
"He's out, he needs to take his bike though, I couldn't talk to him, he's not ready. I told him to meet us at Deadfall. South road will be safest."  
"Deadfall?" I asked, processing the information.  
"I showed him on a run, you know, plan B if Alexandria falls." Jesus looked sheepish.  
"Did you tell anyone else?" I asked, mounting up.  
"Aaron; the recruiter and Maggie" He replied, climbing into the car. Giving me a shrug of mock helplessness.  
"The cute ones huh? Typical." I clicked my tongue and turned Epona's head to the South.

I leaned the mare into a gallop, using my will and posture instinctively to direct her, but she understood and responded. Clever girl.  
"Meur ras karadow. You'll get to meet him soon enough" I promised.  
As we cleared the danger zone I heard and felt another explosion rippling through the ground.  
"Jesus; you naughty, naughty boy." I grinned.  
He really knew how to make a dramatic exit.

It was nightfall when I made the track up to the ridge.  
Epona was lathering and ready for a drink, so I dismounted and led her.  
Jesus had left the car behind the ranger station at the park gates. Seeing that Frankenstein of a motorbike parked next to the sedan made my heart soar.

Deadfall was a cave we had found out tramping, great for tripping in, ah, apparently.  
There was a single steep path along a ridge in and out.  
It was damp and cold, but easy to secure with perfect visibility across the forest and incoming road..  
We had a small survival cache there, army surplus Jesus had rustled up, he had been a closet prepper.  
Something I had started getting into too, my work had always inclined me to sustainable independent living.

As long as a bear hadn't claimed it in the mean time it should be a safe spot to recoup before planning our next move.  
I didn't yet understand why Jesus had suggested it instead of one of the settlements, but I would find out soon enough. I trusted him. Probably too much.

I had my staff at the ready just in case, but it was quiet.  
I only passed one walker on the way up, messily put down, its skull pulped.  
My fear grew, Jesus was efficient, so was Daryl from what I had seen. So he was obviously not okay.  
What the fuck had Negan done to him in the space of two weeks?

I approached the cave, whistling out my oriole impersonation.  
Epona snorted as if she was laughing at me.  
Jesus emerged holding a lantern, looking uncharacteristically nervous.  
"Hey, um, here, I'll take her. She can come to the back, there's that little stream and I pushed all the dead leaves over for her." He took the reins from me.  
Walking in to eerie shadows dancing along the walls from the camp fire, I scanned the cave for my hunter.  
Not here?  
I stood stock still, frozen, when I made out the dark form lying motionless on the rocky floor.  
Jesus picked up my hand, his warmth pulling my attention away.  
Waiting for the rest, wringing my hands, I looked up at him.  
"Daryl's crashed out. I wouldn't wake him, or touch him just yet, he's, ah, he needs to sleep." Jesus began, pulling me into a hug.  
I still didn't understand what had happened.  
The rescue hadn't gone how I had imagined, nothing did anymore.  
I was sober, exhausted, raw and beginning to feel utterly helpless.  
"Come and sit down, there's really bad coffee and stale cabin bread to eat. I'll fill you in while he sleeps,"  
"Oh, okay" I managed, not knowing how to feel.  
I wanted to lie down with Daryl, hold him.  
Not yet.  
So I sat down at the fire, wrapped a musty blanket around my shoulders and listened.

Jesus told me of Negan's retaliation.  
The deaths of the two Alexandrians; Glen and Abraham.  
The tormenting of Rick, how broken he had become.  
I asked if Rick was ready to join with The Kingdom to break Negan's fiefdom.  
He said he thought so, once Daryl was with him again.  
So we got back to Daryl.  
Daryl who still lay like a corpse in the corner, buried in a sleeping bag, a familiar long leather coat over him.

I stood, ready now to go to him, no matter what.  
Jesus stood too, hands clutching, eyes wide.  
It hurt to see him torn like this; wanting to protect me, to protect Daryl, from each other and ourselves.  
"I'll be okay, worst case scenario I'll knock him the fuck out, okay?" I tried to sound light.  
"He reminds me of you Dru, those nights you broke everything. I knew it wasn't sleepwalking." He smiled sadly, adding " I think that's where he is now; lost like that. Be careful." I received a squeeze on the shoulder before Jesus unrolled his sleeping bag and hunkered down by the fire

 

I walked silently over to Daryl, crouched down next to his head and tried to wriggle me way into a comfortable position under my blanket.  
He smelt awful, that sick, sour smell over old sweat and urine.  
Like an abused, tortured and abandoned animal.  
My wolf.  
He was rocking slightly in his sleep, every now and then he would mutter replies to a conversation I wasn't privy to.  
I picked up names between sobs. Someone called Merle and a Beth seemed to be hurting him. Then Glen.  
I risked reaching for his hand, gently sliding my palm under his and lifting it, slowly.  
He turned towards me, still locked in sleep.  
His face, oh God, his eyes were almost swollen shut, bruises shading his jaw line. He looked so much older.  
Fat tears rolled over my cheeks and onto my lips, I wiped them from my face to his, wetting his brow; binding us tighter.  
Pressing his palm to my mouth I whispered words of power into his lifeline, his heartline. Words to find him, all of his scattered pieces, meld them back together. Enclosed in promises and power; I called for him to return.  
"Dehweles, ow helghor, ow karer." I sounded softly into his dreams.  
His sobbing and rocking ceased, quietude fell over him.  
I pressed my body along his length, lifting my head onto his chest.  
"My a'th kar" I whispered to his heart, before exhaustion took me too.


	15. And then there were three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is rescued in every possible way.

I woke shivering in the small hours of the morning, taking a moment to remember where I was.  
Daryl was lying on his side, facing away from me, still and cold.  
His stench was too much. I heated some water over the fire to wash him with. He stayed under while I gently wiped away most of the dirt I could reach.  
When I had finished, I unzipped the side of his sleeping bag and pressed up closer to him, pushing my thigh between his, trying to raise his body temperature again.  
He made no movement to register the change.

I remembered guiltily our last interaction was violent and he had seen nothing but hate and savagery since.  
My best educated guess was that the torture he appeared to have suffered would have caused regression and aggravated his PTSD.  
Fuck, we ALL have PTSD now.  
So I would have to approach him front on, make clear non-threatening movements to reduce his startle response, not react to his outbursts, encourage sleep and fed him nourishing food.  
Like a wild creature I had brought in from the cold.  
Yeah, pretty much exactly what Jesus had done for me. I had never really appreciated it until now. The realisation made me feel worse.  
I couldn't even look after myself, I had completely fucked up raising my daughter Mariella, so how the hell was I going to help a grown ass man?  
I needed to take the edge of before full panic set in.

I extracted myself from the bedding to set up a mushroom tea from our dried psilocybin stores. I made myself a pipe to pass the time while the tea steeped.  
Jesus woke and shared the smoke with me, understanding my intent in that zen way he has.

As smoke wrapped around my thought processes I became attuned to the binding connecting Daryl, Jesus and I.  
Things I kept forgetting when I was sober, distracted by hyper-vigilance to surface reality and trauma conditioning.  
Only self medicating with marijuana, mead and mushrooms could afford me the meta-cognition I needed to be useful, able to access the full array of my arsenal.  
The Drunken Master.  
The Witch of the Woods.

Now I saw the energetic link between us. Humming and vibrating down through the centre of my feet into the cave floor, growing, expanding through the millenia of history compressed in the rock layers, time mutable, possibilities endless, up into Jesus, cycling through his system, emerging stronger and more vibrant, out through his crown, flowing with his intent to enclose Daryl's prone form.  
There I saw the problem.  
It should be flowing both ways, through his core and out again. He was closed, which meant he was using up his last stores of energy; dying.  
I didn't know how to open them again without traveling to where he was, that limbo; or if I could get back.  
"We have to go to the other side, shapeshift to bring him back." I whispered over the fire to Jesus.  
"Mmm" Jesus nodded, unruffled by my decision.  
Ah, so that had been his plan I realised. Why he had brought us here first. He had seen Daryl's state. Had known that if we had gone straight to Alexandria or Hilltop they would have intervened, that Daryl would have been left a rage filled shell forever.

We drank the tea, took up more blankets and went to lie either side of Daryl.  
Before long our animal aspects invaded our consciousness, heightening our senses, dulling cognitive thought.  
I lifted Daryl's shirt up to expose his back. Biting down on my cheek, I mixed blood with saliva in my mouth, drawing it forth on my index finger; I laid out the path of the labyrinth on Daryl's back.  
Jesus watched me with his shrewd fox eyes, propped up on one arm, lying along Daryl's front.  
I could feel his golden aura enveloping both him and Daryl, a sparkling, protective cocoon. 

I removed my clothes, stretched my fore and hind legs and leapt into the labyrinth to find Daryl.  
His back held all the layers of his hurt, I waded through them like thick mud.  
I found myself fighting my way through a desolate, dark wasteland of abandonment and broken promises. I had to keep moving, not be distracted, ignore the forming detail of memories as they vied for my attention. Determined, nose to the ground I padded on silent feet to the rundown cabin at the centre of the scene.  
The door was barricaded, broken bottles littering the crumbling veranda. carefully, steathily, I crept in through the window. There was my hunter, curled in a filthy fetal ball on a battered brown recliner.  
I clamped my teeth on his exposed scruff and dragged him backwards up and out through the window.  
Red, orange, gold in flight caught my vision; a phoenix alighted on the cabin roof. I understood.  
Releasing Daryl, I stretched up to snap a tail feather away in my jaws.  
I dropped it at the front door, blew my hot breath over it then watched as it bloomed into flame.  
The cabin was engulfed, blackening, collapsing, as horrific shapes twisted up and away in the acrid smoke.

Daryl stood to his full height, wings forming then flexing to full extension at his back.  
A great keening cry rose out of him; pain, fear, anger, love, all reverberating through my entire being.  
Forms of darkness streamed out of his mouth as the sound erupted forth, joining the shadowy beings hovering in the smoke.  
As the keening died away so the smoke shapes and shadows faded into nothingness. The landscape cleared.  
Illuminated now from within, Daryl swept me up in his arms.  
My form fluctuated from fox to human as I closed my eyes to his brightness.  
Warm, right, reunited.  
Time to return.

Opening my eyes again I saw the cave walls pulsating around us.  
We lay nestled together, flushed naked flesh in a writhing pile.  
Jesus was rubbing our bodies, keeping us warm and removing the taint of past horror with his energy.

Daryl's head lifted, he seemed to be noticing something, sniffing.  
A whinny from the back of the cave found me laughing; the other animal wanted in on the action.  
Epona walked out of the shadows, straight to Daryl, pushing her head into his shoulder.  
Stepping back she folded her legs under her, reclining from front to back, close enough to huff in Jesus' long hair.

The scent of arousal rose from the three of us.  
Hands brushed over my breasts, more snaked up my thighs.  
I ground my arse into a warm crotch, my tongue delineating the line of a collarbone.  
So much sensation flooding my receptors, juices flowing, moans erupting.  
Soft hair tickled across my face, I found a mouth hidden behind it and sunk my tongue into it; lips bruising against teeth.  
That mouth tasted of mushrooms; Jesus then. I kissed him again then turned to the mouth lathing my breasts.  
I pulled Daryl up by his huge shoulders, seeing his eyes blown wide, lust burning there. My lips crashed into his, I tasted peanut butter as I searched his mouth with my tongue. Beard hair fuzzed at my ear, I heard panting.  
I ducked my head down to allow the men access to each others faces, heard the slurping of passionate kissing above.  
My fingertips ran over rough curls, a velvety cock lurching into my hand.  
I stroked vertically, twisting my palm up and over the moistened head.  
Musk rose, asking to be tasted. I obeyed, tasting turning to enthusiastic rhythmic sucking.  
"Oh ffffuck" came a graveled rumble; Daryl's cock then.  
Wet fingers and a tongue were prepping my arse as I lavished attention on Daryl. Not his, the angle was wrong.  
"Say yes" Jesus demanded in my ear.  
"Yes" I said, moments before his cock began pushing past the resistance of my arsehole.  
This I understood, this exquisite pleasurable pain a proxy for the body Jesus wanted to be in but couldn't have.  
Jesus knew what I liked, knew also that Daryl's consent was non clear cut for him yet. I certainly wasn't complaining.  
I was making feral noises around the solid cock in my mouth, at my edge without even touching my clit yet.  
I wanted Daryl to come first, so he could watch the rest unhindered.  
"Do you want inside me too Karer?" I asked, my eyes wicked on his.  
He looked carefully at Jesus behind me, moving inside me, read the bliss on my face.  
He closed his eyes, rolled in close and began to caress my breasts and Jesus's arm.  
I felt a surge of love at his bravery, it was quickly ignited into ferocious lust when he growled "Yes."  
Jesus withdrew while I climbed on top of Daryl.  
I littered kisses all over his chest while I slid my pussy onto his generous cock; up and down roughly a few times to establish moist accommodation.  
I latched my mouth onto Daryl's, kissing, sucking and biting gently; swallowing his groans as Jesus carefully re-entered my arse.  
The sense of intense erotic fullness was mind-blowing. I felt Daryl and Jesus' cocks moving against each other inside me.  
I undulated slowly on Daryl; Jesus responding with a counter rhythm that was almost unbearable in the best possible way.  
I clenched at both of them with shuddering spasms, coming hard without any concentration required. I felt another orgasm building seconds later.  
"Fucking, oh, Dru, oh fuck" Daryl rasped, jerking and bucking beneath me. The look of wonder and love in his expression seared into my memory.  
I lifted my body gently off Daryl enough so that I could reach my clit. Jesus picked up speed as he pumped my arse, gripping my hair with the other hand to pull my head to one side. I understood, he wanted to see Daryl as he came. I started fucking him back, fast and hard, ramming my cheeks into his groin as he pummeled me. It fucking hurt and I loved it. Gritting my teeth and rubbing furiously I came hard in a blinding, overpowering orgasm along with Jesus. His wordless moan sounded right in my ear as I was filled with the second dose of semen. Oh fuck it felt good to be alive.  
We lay together in a sweaty, funky heap, hands idly caressing three different textures of skin. Such slow, gentle kisses for each other now.  
I was on the outside, spooning Daryl as he kissed Jesus. Seeing them together got me so turned on. I could almost do it all again.  
I rubbed myself to a final climax; earning a smirk from Jesus over Daryl's shoulder.  
I could see they were both spent, Daryl happy to be held by Jesus and succumb again to sleep.  
I crept off to wash myself with the lukewarm water before snuggling up against my ingenious best friend.  
"I love you" I whispered into his hair.  
"I know." he replied.

We slept through most of the day, utterly worn out but happy.  
We had earned the rest; our Daryl was back.  
When we woke in the afternoon we ate heartily; making a thick soup from our rations and adding a packet of crackers to the meal.  
Daryl was more physically affectionate with both of us than I had ever known him to be before; seeking out touch like a beloved cat.  
I was sad to leave our safe haven, knowing all that awaited us was a war council.  
But leave we did before sundown.  
Epona and I together again, Daryl on his bike and Jesus in the car; all bound for a Hilltop.


End file.
